Love Unsought
by Scarlet Secret
Summary: Love sought is good, but given unsought is better, or 'How a Countess and her Lady's Maid fell tragically in love'. From the Garden Party onwards Cora Crawley and Sarah O'Brien through the war, family life and beyond.
1. Misery Loves Company

_A/N 1, Lady Grantham: 50,000 words later, after managing to find a title, I can't write an author's note? This really began as something so small and adorable and ridiculously hot, but after about 20,000 of those 50,000 words we decided why not actually make something publishable of this? And we did, and if you're reading this I can only assume you plan to real the whole shebang.(SS: Interesting choice of word there dude!) It really has been a labour of love, and I can only hope you enjoy it as much as I've loved writing it._

_Stupid amounts of love to Scarlet - she's an absolute genie and a wonderful friend and I've never had so much fun writing porn, and that's saying a lot. Her characterisations, of Sarah especially, are so spot on I'm convinced she's secretly Siobhan Finneran. You'll see what I mean._

_A/N 2, Scarlet Secret: What began as a RP between us, a brief message saying "Dude, they sort of want each other don't they?" has ended with us having an obsessive OTP and a very, very, very looooooong fic. We have a good 50,000 words all ready to go and they shall be unravelled over the next few days and I really cannot express how super excited we are to see if people like this!_

_And to Bex! Who is the co-author of this epic and the fact that it is under my username should not suggest for a second I did any more. She is awesome and has kept me writing through all of these long months and deserves hugs and kudos for being such a lovable and amusing Cora._

_And finally from both of us, a big shout out to Ellie, Grace, Ariadne and Belle for their endless encouragement and being wonderful friends over two forums (If you're interested, check out our profiles and come visit us, we promise it's not all tragic femslash!)._

* * *

><p>Cora had escaped from the garden party very soon after Robert had disclosed the contents of his telegram, seeing the announcement as the perfect opportunity to excuse herself from a party she did not want to be at in the first place. She had not even spoken to her husband; she had simply asked O'Brien to accompany her and had left.<p>

Cora had honestly believed that there was no possibility of such an awful week getting any worse, until Robert had stood up in front of all of them, his trembling hand clutching the ominous scrap of paper, and said the word "war". She had known that it was coming; there was no escaping the inevitability of German ambition and aggression. The Archduke had been murdered, and it was as if Europe and all her countries had transformed into an enormous game of dominoes. Russia had declared war on Austria-Hungary and so Germany had done so on Russia. France, Belgium, Britain; they had all fallen, one by one, into a conflict of potentially catastrophic proportions.

She stood silently as O'Brien undressed her, handling her as if she was made of glass, Cora staring blankly at the far wall. How many men would lose their lives for their country? How many men would be wounded and families torn apart? Men like William and Branson would be called upon, surely…men like Cousin Matthew. Men she knew and respected, and thought of fondly. Yet, despite all of this, all she could think about was one child, one tiny, barely formed infant who had not yet even breathed air and now never would, because of her, because she had been careless. Robert had lost the son he had spent his life hoping for because she had simply been clumsy enough to slip on a bar of soap.

"I wonder, will America choose to involve herself?" Cora mused quietly, seeking a distraction of any guise.

To begin with, O'Brien didn't hear her. She was occupied with slowly unlacing the corset binding her mistress' torso, taking excessive care not to nip her back with any of the clasps as they were undone and so was only vaguely aware that the other woman had spoken. It was not uncommon for Lady Grantham to speak aloud when she was being undressed, she seldom expected a reply, but O'Brien could feel the tension in the other woman and so considered her response carefully, trying to control her face.

Would the Americans join in? What a question to be asking now, she thought, although, it was hardly unexpected coming as it did from her ladyship. She reached around and gently pulled away the corset, leaving her ladyship in her chemise. For a second her fingertips brushed over the other woman's stomach and O'Brien had to swallow the bile in her mouth at the thought of the swelling that would never be.

_Don't think about it now!_

She glanced up, meeting Cora's eye for the first time since they had left the garden party and gave the only answer she could think of that wouldn't cause offence.

"I suppose she must, m'lady."

Over the past few days, Cora had managed to maintain her composure. She had suffered through the garden party, through Violet's concern which was terminally laced with disappointment, through the countless looks of pity from the servants … but for all of her hard work, she could not suppress the violence of the flinch that she gave as O'Brien's fingers drifted over her mid-drift, or the sharp intake of breath which accompanied it.

Not since Dr Clarkson's examination had anybody touched Cora's stomach. Not even Robert, who had been unable to stop caressing the flesh upon being told of the child's existence. Cora was not certain she would have allowed him to, even if he had made an attempt to. Cora herself had meticulously avoided doing so; each touch was a bitter confirmation of the loss.

Looking up, she finally realised that the other woman had spoken._ Poor O'Brien_. Since the accident, she had barely left her mistress's side. She had been a tower of strength, a constant source of support and even tenderness. The poor woman had been the one to help her in the immediate aftermath; she had been the one to have to tell Robert. It was an unenviable position for anyone to have been in, yet she had done it without a word of complaint.

"I suppose," Cora finally replied, offering O'Brien a weak smile. "Do you have any brothers or family who will be called up?" Cora asked, suddenly realising how little she knew about her maid.

O'Brien was momentarily taken aback. Not once in nearly eleven years had Cora asked her anything that personal. She had assumed that like most members of the aristocracy Lady Grantham thought that servants were born full-formed, with an iron in one hand and a needle and thread in the other. She busied herself with fetching her ladyship's nightdress.

"No, m'lady. At least none that I know about anyway."

Cora eyed her curiously and O'Brien sighed. She'd been afraid of this all these years and it seemed fitting that now should be when she had little choice but to tell the truth.

"I came from the orphanage, m'lady. The closest thing I've got to a brother... well we're a family of sorts below stairs m'lady."

O'Brien held out the nightgown, the familiar material feeling softer beneath her calloused fingers than she ever remembered it doing so before, waiting for Cora to move her arms but the woman didn't move in their long-established pattern, rather she remained still. In the sunset-filled room Sarah couldn't entirely see her ladyship's expression with the glaring orange light in her eyes but she had long since memorised the features and could imagine well enough.

She lowered the nightdress - she had a feeling the other woman wasn't quite done with her yet - although she wished Cora would allow herself to be dressed soon, her state at the moment reminded O'Brien all too much of the day with the bath.

Glad of the blurred light, Cora could not help but stare at O'Brien in surprise. An orphan! Though she had admittedly never given it much thought before, she had at least imagined O'Brien to have parents, a brother perhaps. To think that all this time – and it had been a _long_ time now – she had not known something like this about her lady's maid._ You would have done, if you had asked,_ she thought to herself.

Her arms remained still by her sides, her curiosity superseding her desire to be dressed. Besides, she had felt so claustrophobic in her dress today that the relief of such freedom was enough to stop her from dressing for weeks on end. The corset was especially restricting, particularly the way it pressed against her stomach…

_Stop, just stop._

Could she not go five minutes without the child crossing her mind? Was she really that weak?

Cora pushed a loose lock of hair back from her face as she considered O'Brien's face.

"You know nothing about your family?" she questioned softly. The concept was as alien to her as it was frightening. "Could the orphanage not provide you with any answers?"

Sarah cursed herself. She knew that it had been the wrong thing to do. Amidst her own recent troubles the last thing her employer needed was the details of her maid's depressing past.

"No, m'lady. There was nothing."

O'Brien moved towards her, holding up the nightgown once more. Cora still kept her arms at her side.  
>Closing her eyes and breathing deeply Sarah knew that her answer hadn't sufficed and searched her mind for something else, something to placate her ladyship.<p>

"There was a blanket with my name on it. When I was ten they unpicked the stitching and gave it to one of the younger girls."

Sarah lowered her head as she finished, aware that her emotions would be unguarded. She never, ever spoke about her childhood, under any circumstances. When she had started at Downton, so long ago now, Mrs Hughes had tried to wheedle her history out of her but O'Brien had been steadfast and ignored her attempts.

Cora still hadn't replied and O'Brien couldn't meet her eye. Instead she focussed on her ladyship's neck and immediately noticed the growing goose pimples. She quickly placed the nightgown back on the bed and instead picked up the dressing gown resting across the dressing table chair.

"You'll get cold m'lady."

Sarah gently placed the gown around Cora's unresisting shoulders. She spent a moment smoothing out the front lapels of the gown with slightly shaking hands before moving behind Cora and reaching for her hair.

"Oh, O'Brien," Cora could not help but breathe. Sympathy clouded her features. She was sure that O'Brien did not need such pity, but Cora could not prevent herself from feeling it. The very idea of not knowing one's family, of the only remaining relic attached to the relatives one had never known snatched so cruelly from one's grasp. How _ghastly _it must be for her. And to think all this time she had had no idea, had been so oblivious to another's suffering.

She barely noticed O'Brien draping the robe over her shoulders, hardly felt the cold as it seeped into her bones. Her mind was focused on the other woman's tragic tale, consumed by her feelings of sympathy and infused with a new view of the woman who had been at her side for so long now. Reaching out as she had before, turning to face the woman rather than allow her to administer to her hair, she grasped O'Brien's hand in her own. It was the least that she could offer, as the woman had been so good to her. And she had never seen her maid so emotionally disturbed before, it was somewhat alarming.

"It must be awful," she offered softly, not knowing what else she could say.

Cora's hand burnt through O'Brien's. She couldn't stand it. All her life she had kept her mouth resolutely shut to avoid anything like this and now, _now, you great big noodle Sarah_, now she'd gone and told the one person she deserved sympathy from the least.

And Lady Grantham was still holding her hand. Sarah forced herself not to feel too much about any of this - it wasn't like the other woman was at all likely to be sincere. At least it's not_ dear_ O'Brien this time!  
>Her mind drifted back to her childhood like an unstoppable force. The long-suppressed memories of coldness, abuse and general loneliness came back to the surface and she closed her eyes to stop the tears. She was shaking. She felt Cora squeeze her hand - probably to tell her to pull it together and braid her hair, she thought, uncharitably.<p>

She took a deep breath and looked into her Ladyship's face, nearly screaming at the pity she saw there.

"It wasn't quite as grim as you might be imagining m'lady," _she was lying. She was lying and Cora simply must know it, but would she play along?_ "The...nuns were quite friendly."_ Friendly? Honestly Sarah. Well she couldn't very well tell her ladyship the sort of things that had really gone on could she?_

Cora didn't respond and she continued, realising a moment too late that she was babbling.

"And I'm alright now, aren't I? We all of us 'ave our crosses to bare m'lady."

Feeling daring she squeezed the other woman's hand back, idly thinking how bizarre it would be if this was classed as being over-familiar when she bathed this woman once a day.

O'Brien was alright; at least she had always seemed to be to Cora. A decade now, and Cora had never once seen anything shatter Sarah O'Brien until today. She had seen O'Brien be many things in their ten years together; angry, frustrated, outraged. But she had never been afraid, had even stood in front of Cora and spoken her mind without fear. So to see tears in her eyes, to see her tremble as she relived some unspeakable experience…She clutched O'Brien's hand a little tighter.

"Yes, we do," Cora finally agreed. She sensed that O'Brien was distinctly uncomfortable and – somewhat reluctantly – pulled her hand back. She did not believe for a second that her experience at the orphanage had been anything but grim. She could see the truth of it in Sarah's eyes. But she clearly did not wish to continue the conversation, and who was Cora to force her to do so? Even if she did only wish to help.

It seemed somewhat surreal to Cora that she knew hardly anything of the woman who undressed her several times a day, the woman who saw her stripped bare more frequently than even her husband, even if she was a servant _(really Cora, must you be such a snob?)_. She wondered what other secrets O'Brien kept locked within her, watching her curiously before she returned to Cora's hair.

"Why are you not married?" Cora asked suddenly, letting out a sigh as O'Brien ran her fingers through her hair to separate her curls.

O'Brien's fingers froze between the strands of hair she was working free. _Why on earth was she so bloody interested all of a sudden?_ Cora had spent the best part of ten years telling her tidbits about her own life, until O'Brien felt like she could walk through her employers childhood home with familiarity herself, but she had never asked anything. Sometimes Sarah had let tiny things slip - a book she read once, or an injury she had acquired - but Cora had never _asked_. And now it was _this_.

For a moment she nearly laughed. The thought of what they would think below stairs if they saw the prickly lady's maid being asked such a personal question and unable to deflect it with her usual biting sarcasm, forced to meekly answer her employer. Instead she considered the answer she was going to give and it sobered her up.

"There was a man once m'lady. When I was still a housemaid, but nothing ever came of it. And now...well you'd think Mrs Hughes was guarding the gates of hell themselves the way she 'olds onto them keys."

Despite the recent tragedies _(Of your own making Sarah...)_she couldn't help but feel a little bit better. Releasing some of the bile she had grown for Elsie Hughes over the years never stopped cheering her up. She ran her fingers through her ladyship's curls, something else that usually cheered her, and met Cora's eye in the mirror, smiling slightly.

Cora could not help but release a laugh. The image of Mrs Hughes keeping her ladies behind lock and key was too amusing for any other reaction. Cora was genuinely fond of the woman, and found her an excellent housekeeper, but her strict treatment of her staff was well known even to Lord and Lady Grantham.

"What was he like?" Cora asked.

Soothed by the rhythmic motion of Sarah's fingers freeing her tangled locks, she was unable to suppress her curiosity. She found it difficult to imagine the sober Miss O'Brien being courted by a gentleman caller, and found it even more difficult to believe she had never known. But then, Sarah had not always been her lady's maid, and the very nature of Cora's position made it difficult for her to come into contact with many of the other servants. Her previous lady's maid, a woman of advanced age and unpredictable temperament had been easy to bid farewell to upon her retirement. Genuinely fond of O'Brien, she did not believe the same could be said for _her_. And O'Brien was so fond of her too. She could not understand Robert's dislike for the woman. She had been an ally, and perhaps even Cora's_ friend__, _since the day she had undertaken the position as her lady's maid. And since the miscarriage…Cora did not believe she could have survived the tragedy without O'Brien's support. Catching her eyes in the mirror, Cora smiled back.

Her ladyship's laughter pierced her heart. It was the first time the other woman had looked anything other than sad for days and Sarah couldn't help but feel a bit pleased with herself for the achievement. She moved her fingers in a practised rhythm, feeling Cora's body relax before her and she slowed her hands, deciding she may as well prolong this for her ladyship's sake.

"Nothing too extraordinary. He was kind enough and probably would 'ave been a good husband. Michael, his name was. Mickey. He'd just inherited a public house on the coast and 'e wanted me to come with him, but I'd just been offered a much better job and it didn't seem right."

Her hands had stopped moving altogether now and were really just resting in Cora's hair. She had a brief flash of some of the other girls at the orphanage whispering together about the boys on the other side of the building, but she had never been allowed to join in - too sour and too plain to ever contemplate the boys. She smirked, thinking of their faces now. She may only be a servant to this woman but her confidant was the Countess of Grantham, so they could stick that in their bloody pipes!

She caught Cora's smile in the mirror and felt her insides squirm again. Her ladyship should hate her. Should rant and rave at her for being such a horrible person over the last ten years but instead she seemed to be growing fonder of her by the day.

Cora considered Sarah in the mirror, watching as her hands stilled in her hair. "Do you ever regret the decision, O'Brien?" It occurred to her it may not be a question that the other woman was willing to answer, but she had been thinking a great deal about regret lately. And the idea of O'Brien sacrificing a husband, maybe children…She had lost one family, and given up the opportunity to build another. Cora could not help but think it was a large price to pay for a lifetime of servitude.

Sarah breathed deeply and moved her fingers idly through the silken curls. Her ladyship didn't seem to mind.

"No, m'lady. I find it better not to worry about what might have been."

It occurred to her that regrets were probably at the forefront of her ladyship's mind and telling her to merely forget about them was unlikely to work.

Truthfully she had spent years pushing away all thoughts of Michael and the family she might have had with him. He'd had two sisters and two older brothers who would have provided a small army of nieces and nephews, not to mention the children they might have had together. Sometimes when she was alone she allowed herself to think of a small boy who had her biting tongue and his penetrating eyes, but she'd long since learnt that that was the way madness lay. Besides which, there was no need to think of sons she _might _have had...She pushed that memory away with violent mental force.

"Besides m'lady, the position here was secure and if you're on your own you think with your head not...well..."

She caught Cora's eye again and realised what she had said. Her ladyship hadn't needed to know that it was _this _position!

"With your heart." Cora finished O'Brien's sentence softly. It was a notion that Cora understood well. A woman in her position hardly ever married for love. One married for wealth, for security, or for a title. A marriage based on the head, not the heart. From as early as her eighth year, Mama had encouraged Cora to think of love as a game; the aim was not to enjoy oneself, it was to win, and Susan Levinson_ loved_ to win. It was by sheer astronomical luck that she had found Robert Crawley, and – even _more _miraculous – he had eventually fallen in love with her too. It was a love which had sustained her through two decades in a strange, foreign country. A love which would sustain her through their recent tragedy.

_It would, wouldn't it?_

Cora's eyes suddenly darted up, meeting O'Brien's in the mirror. The words had not fully registered initially, but then O'Brien's fingers had stopped moving in the locks of hair that had been fully separated some time ago. _The position here._

"Your position here, as lady's maid?" she asked slowly.

Sarah could have kicked herself. Had her ladyship really needed to know that particular thing? She thought back to that time, leaving Michael disappointed and not even telling him precisely where she was going, the last thing she needed was him following her as a constant reminder. When she had arrived at Downton the girls had been young, the Dowager Countess spoke scathingly towards her daughter-in-law at every opportunity and Lord Grantham still entertained the possibility of a son - he had been frustrated at their lack of good fortune in the area at the time - and Cora had immediately leaned on her new maid as source of stability and strength. At first Sarah had been rather bemused, never having been a lady's maid and never having come in contact with an American, Cora and her affectionate nature (even if Sarah still seriously doubted Cora's sincerity at times) had been something of a surprise.

Cora had confused her more than Michael ever had. Despite what she had been told about men, being with him, and even now, sitting outside smoking and talking about nothingness with Thomas, was easy. How was somebody supposed to go about being detached with somebody they spent more time with than anyone else in the world? She'd liked her strange mistress to begin with but had grown to resent the woman's ability to ignore her one moment and then call her _dear O'Brien _in that honeyed voice the next.

"Yes m'lady. But I was already thirty when I met him so we were 'ardly loves young dream."

She tried to make a joke out of it, tried to deflect Cora's questioning but knew it was to no avail.

"I've been happy here," she still had her hands in Cora's hair but allowed one of them to fall softly onto her shoulder. "Truly I have."

"But you would have been happy as a wife, as a mother, surely?" Cora could not help herself, the words escaping in a fevered rush, steeped in sympathy and a sudden piercing guilt. She had never viewed O'Brien as the matrimonial type, but it was becoming clear she knew _nothing _about her at all.

Why now? Why, after ten long years, did Cora suddenly care so much about the other woman's life? And what a miserable life it was, indeed. She had suffered through childhood without a shred of love or family, only to find it and give it all up for _Downton._

Cora had seen Sarah's resume, she had pushed for the woman to be offered the position. She had been intelligent, sharp. Cora had found her cynicism to be almost a breath of fresh air. She had practically forced the position on her! To take a person's life and_ waste_ it… What right did she – or anybody else for that matter – have to do_ that_? Oh, if only Violet could hear her now. Worrying herself silly over the life of a _lady's maid_. Only a few days earlier, barely a day or so before the accident, she had been bemoaning a maid's right to marriage; and now she felt positively_ sick_ that O'Brien had given hers up. And for what? A demanding mistress who had her up from dusk until dawn and fell to pieces after one little tragedy? O'Brien had never known her family. She would never _have_ a family. Cora had lost a child, but had _never _lacked for relations, for love. What a terrible world they all lived in.

Perhaps this was the reason Cora had never asked about O'Brien's life before._ The truth hurts_, she mused silently. Her burning chest could certainly attest to that.

Sarah squeezed her shoulder, suddenly aware at the distress she had caused, and hating herself for it. The guilt bubbled further.

"M'lady, please don't worry about me."

Why was Cora so interested all of a sudden? Why did she care? She'd spent so long been indifferent at best and now she was acting like this. Sarah breathed deeply.

_You know perfectly well why she's in a state Sarah O'Brien. Because of your spite, you daft cow._

She assessed the situation and tried to decide what to do to raise Cora's spirits.

_Tell her anything! Tell her that...he was a monster? Tell her things would have been miserable with Michael and that you never, ever wanted children! Well, that's true enough if nothing else. Having one, big person to look after all the live long day was quite enough!_

How could she make her ladyship understand that she didn't consider her life wasted? She felt her stomach twist awfully - she'd spent years bemoaning to Thomas Cora's complete and utter lack of understanding about what her servants had given up and now she knew Sarah would give anything to have her mistress return to how she was just one week ago. Aloof and charming and completely emotionally removed from Sarah.

"M'lady please," her other hand fell onto Cora's shoulder and she moved a little closer to her employer. "Don't go upsetting yourself over me. I've been happy here with you. We've done alright together haven't we?"

Happy? She had been_ happy_? What woman could ever be content with sacrificing a family for a life like this? To live under the service of a woman who had never even bothered to ask anything more than in the way of _"C__ould you please undress me, O'Brien?__" _To Cora, the idea was inconceivable. Robert, Mary, Edith, Sybil; she could not imagine her life without a single one of them. She could not imagine the love of a family being absent from her life.

Releasing a quiet breath, soothed by the gentle press of O'Brien's hands against her shoulders, Cora gave the other woman a small nod. Forcing a soft smile, she turned and reached up to grasp O'Brien's wrists, squeezing slightly. Though not convinced by a long shot, Cora could feel some of the pressure begin to loosen from her chest.

"Yes, we have," Cora agreed finally, her lips curling up gratefully. "You've been very good to me, O'Brien."

She could not understand what she had done to deserve Sarah O'Brien. The last ten years had been an endless cycle; Cora fell apart, for one reason or another, and O'Brien propped her right back up again. Never faltering, never complaining, despite the misery of her past. She felt extraordinarily blessed.

Despite the smile that her mistress was attempting Sarah knew that she was still feeling guilty, and it killed her. She had always wanted this acknowledgement of her service but now it was here it reviled her.

"M'lady," she slid her hands into Cora's, gripping tightly and being surprised at how tightly her ladyship held her hands back. "I'd do-"

She stumbled over her words, unable to form in her mouth the feelings in her head. She wanted to tell her that she'd do anything for her but knew how ridiculous it sounded despite how true it was.

"I've been happy here, truly I have. There's nowhere else I'd sooner have been."

If it had been absolutely anybody else in the world O'Brien might have broken the habit of a lifetime and pulled the other woman into an embrace. Instead she looked into Cora's eyes and tried to impress upon her the truth of her words.

She_ had _been happy when she thought about it. There was a safety in the routine of Downton that she enjoyed and she really did mean it when she said that they were a family of sorts below stairs. Although she couldn't imagine even his lordship hating his mother half as much as she did Elsie Hughes!

The grip on her hands and the intensity of O'Brien's eyes were enough to convince Cora of the truth of her words. She clung to the other woman's hands in a grip which was perhaps a little too tight, but with the world going mad around them she needed something to hold on to. And she really was terribly fond of O'Brien, who better to turn to?

"I'm glad to hear that. I'm very glad to have you here," Cora replied affectionately, giving O'Brien's hands another squeeze before releasing them. For a moment, a split second, she had considered embracing the other woman, before determining it was not appropriate, even under current circumstances. She supposed there was no use in distancing herself once again, though. She had already let O'Brien see her at her most vulnerable. Cora doubted her lady's maid would ever see her in the same light again.

"I'm sorry, O'Brien," she apologised, releasing a self-conscious laugh. "I've been a rather troublesome  
>charge today, haven't I? I promise to be more cooperative."<p>

Sliding the robe free on O'Brien's behalf, she draped it back over the relevant chair and made a beeline for the nightgown, in the interests of being helpful and attempting to make up for her embarrassing behaviour.

Her ladyship was dismissing her. The situation had reached its peak and now the other woman was...what? Embarrassed? Ashamed? Certainly she was pulling away from a connection they'd had for that moment. Sarah felt herself shake with emotion - she had never, ever let her guard down like that before and now Cora wouldn't even let her touch her to dress her. Oh yes, my lady, she thought sadly, we really are friends aren't we?

She licked her dry lips swiftly _(__Christ it's hot in this room!__) _and watched her ladyship pick up the nightdress. For a split second she thought that Cora might even deign to dress herself but she should have known better. Why would she lift a finger when she had a servant to do it for her? Sarah felt her stomach twist again, with outrage rather than guilt this time. All her apologies had meant nothing then? Lady Grantham didn't care one whit for her life story; she'd just been trying to forget her own.

"Let me, m'lady."

She strode purposefully over to Cora and took the nightdress from her unresisting hands, holding it bunched up and ready for the other woman as she had done earlier.

_Have I said something wrong? _Cora contemplated briefly. Certainly there seemed to distinctive tension that had not been there before. She hesitated as O'Brien held the nightdress ready above her head, genuinely disturbed by the notion she had offended the other woman in some manner, standing still in the thin chemise, looking awfully small. She had seen the lady's maid the most vulnerable she had ever been, and vice versa. She could not understand how the air between them had changed so dramatically in a mere five seconds. All that had happened in that time was Cora had apologised for making it so difficult for O'Brien to do her job. Collecting the nightdress herself had been an obvious way of Cora demonstrating the shift in their relationship, that she did not think of the other woman as simply a servant any longer. She thought of her as a friend.

"Thank you," Cora said gently. She met O'Brien's eyes briefly, as if trying to will an explanation out from the depths. When none was forthcoming, she turned slowly and raised her arms.

_Sarah__,_ the niggling voice in the back of her head, that sounded awfully like Hughes spoke,_ what right have you to be angry at her? After what you did to her...surely even her formal and forced friendliness is too good for you?_

The hurt she had seen in Cora's eyes before she turned had cut into her. The other woman still looked so pristinely vulnerable...maybe she had over-reacted? Maybe she had meant it after all and she was trying to be helpful, make them equals after they had spent the night holding hands and exchanging confidences and, Sarah closed her eyes in silent despair at the memory, with her fingers in her ladyship's hair for longer than was strictly necessary. But they couldn't be equals.

Gentler than she'd taken the nightdress from her ladyship, Sarah lowered it onto the other woman, taking care to arrange each fold exactly and smooth out each crease. She lowered herself to her knees and reached between the nightgown to find for the top of her ladyship's stockings. Cora's skin was red hot and for a moment O'Brien forgot how warm the bloody room was and worried about her mistress' health - _as you bloody should!_

She did something that in ten years she had never, ever done. Still with her fingers unfastening the stockings she looked up into her ladyship's face and was not able to speak.

"O'Brien, I-" Cora broke off, suddenly realising she did not know what it was she had intended to say. Did she mean to thank her for her support? Tell her to stop doing what she was doing? Apologise for whatever it was she had done wrong? Declare her eternal friendship?

_What are you doing, Cora?_

She had dramatically lost control of the situation, to the point where she could barely look her lady's maid in the eye as she performed such a routine duty without her cheeks flushing red. In blurring the lines between the professional and the personal, things now seemed much more complicated than they had before both women had bared their souls to one another. Cora would never dream of allowing one of her society friends to perform such a task as removing her stockings, it was too intimate, uncomfortably so. Perhaps this was why no one was ever really friends with the staff?

"After you have finished, could you see if Lord Grantham will be joining me tonight?" she finally said. After a moment, afraid of offending O'Brien yet again, and truthfully not wanting the end the fledgling friendship between them, she added a very soft "please". She was sure that O'Brien had seen the conflict on her face however, and momentarily closed her eyes, drawing in a breath.

She kept watching Cora's face, even after the other woman had closed her eyes, with abject confusion.

She was on her knees again, serving this woman as she had for years and she'd just said 'please' and O'Brien was genuinely shocked and felt the tendril of something like amusement sweep through her. What a ridiculous pair they were really, But then they always had been. The over-emotional American woman who said please to her maid and shook slightly when she performed the entirely typical daily task of removing her stockings, and the maid who had just unveiled her life story to her employer and now couldn't stop thinking that what had for a second almost felt like friendship had been rather pleasant.

"Of course m'lady."

She felt a sudden and unexpected surge of affection for her employer and felt terrible that the other woman seemed to be in such a bad state. For a moment she entertained the worrying notion that her horrible past had been too much for Cora to comprehend all at once; she herself had after all had a lifetime to get used to it. She would hate to think of her ladyship losing sleep over it. She brushed aside the thought as she folded up first the stockings and then, standing, the dress that had lain discarded on the floor for their conversation.

The silk felt smoother than ever beneath her fingertips as she was somewhat reluctant to put it down again but she did. When she glanced over at Cora the woman was still standing by her bed, looking as flustered as she had moments ago. Sarah felt emboldened.

"M'lady," again that night she reached for Cora's shaking hand, aware that she herself was also somewhat jittery. "Things will improve. They always do." She reached up her free hand to affectionately touch her ladyship lightly on the shoulder. "Take it from someone who knows."

She smiled at Cora as much as she was able, willing the other woman to feel better.

Meeting O'Brien's eyes for a moment, terribly shaken and confused by the seemingly hundreds of conflicting thoughts and emotions that were coursing and colliding through her body and her mind, Cora simply blinked. She had no clue how one was expected to behave after the loss of a child, perhaps it was normal to feel such indescribable chaos. And then there was the war.

Cora almost jumped as O'Brien took her hand, despite the fact she was looking straight at the woman. Such concern and tenderness were rare, practically unheard of, for a servant and an employer, but O'Brien seemed unswervingly committed to maintaining their new friendship and for that, Cora was curiously grateful. Though she had none of the answers she needed, she did not lack for support.

Releasing a breath as O'Brien fondly touched her shoulder, Cora found her lips curling up in an achingly familiar smile, borne both of sadness and a feeling of_ immense _gratitude.

"Dear O'Brien," she whispered, this time the name infused with more affection than she had ever spoken it before. Smiling, she did not reach for her hand, but instead lay her palm flat against the other woman's cheek. "How did I ever survive without you?"

_Just say it Sarah, make her feel good. It's not like it's not half-true anyway..._

"I feel quite the same m'lady."

She couldn't explain it but she did feel like that. She smiled, pleased with her own honesty. Her ladyship seemed pleased with it too and squeezed her fingers once more. The hand on her cheek was burning and Sarah couldn't tell whether it was her ladyship's hand that was hot or her own cheek.

_Probably both with the heat of this room._

Eventually they removed their hands and ended their strange physical weaving of connections. Sarah wasn't overly keen on being touched under normal circumstances but her ladyship seemed to derive comfort from it so she was happy to oblige. She inclined her head briefly, knowing that her ladyship probably wouldn't appreciate a full-on show of subservience at the moment.

"Ring for me if you need _anything _m'lady."

She headed for the door, hearing Cora mutter her own goodbye behind her.

As she left the room she wished she could just be done for the night. Wished that her last interaction with the family for today could be that strange but oddly comforting encounter but no, she still had to go and find his lordship and his cold, dislike of her was likely to ruin the small amount of joy that she had somehow stumbled across.

She needn't have worried. As she left the room and took a deep, calming breath, his lordship was heading towards his wife's bedchamber. Stepping to one side O'Brien acknowledged him with a nod and hurried away.

_Christ I need a fag! Where the bleeding hell's that footman?_


	2. Telegram

Cora felt Robert enter the room, before she heard him. After the gentle, understanding presence of Sarah O'Brien, although she still felt confusion from that startling conversation, a brooding husband was somewhat a shock to the system, but she expected nothing more from a man who had gone from losing his son to announcing a _war _within the space of a few days. She watched Robert carefully as he moved into the bedroom, observing the taut shoulders, the clenched fists that held on tight to a simple piece of paper.

There was something different about him, something _wrong; s_he supposed he was shaken by the announcement of war, they all were, but it was more than that, and Cora knew instinctively the answer lay in that scrap of paper in his hand. Something occurred to her, in a moment of clarity, and she swallowed at the lump in her throat – Matthew would enlist, surely, and perhaps that was what this, the note, was all about. The boy was as foolishly noble as her husband and just as infuriatingly good, and Cora had no doubt he would fight. Losing Matthew was inconceivable, not only because he was the heir, but because she had become so terribly fond of their cousin, but not quite as fond as Robert - the young man had practically been welcomed into their family as the son that her husband had never had.

That he now _never _would.

"Have the rest of the guests gone?" Cora spoke with forced levity that she could not even begin to feel inside amidst the sudden nausea.

Robert finally looked up from the scrap of paper in his hand. In a way he had felt like staring at it long enough might help the words to sink in - at the very least it has saved him from having to tell Cora what was going to happen - but it seemed there was no other way. He managed a small smile at the sight of his wife, already in her nightgown and looking, though tired, as she always did. There was some normalcy in this room, things were as they always had been and with any luck the terrible things that were going to happen would never hurt this perfection.

He had seen war before after all and he knew the horror of it as Cora couldn't. To look at her now, ignoring all that had happened, he could still see her as she had been ten years ago now, when he had returned from the last war. He would have to cherish the images once more, the indelible warmth he felt inside at the thought of his wife and daughters - the last time they had been so young, this time he hoped they would all be able to comfort each other. Last time Cora had been left with his Mother, something he was sure had been a chore for her, and Rosamund being all too present.

"The guests? Yes, I think Carson saw off the last of them. It should just be the family tonight."

He tried to smile, tried to be his usual self, but he couldn't. Thoughts of France and bullets and trenches and blood were invading his mind all too much, the memories came flooding back as though he had only just returned. How could he be the same with the promise of such terrible things on the horizon.

The paper burnt in his hand. He crumpled it up and felt the edges dig into his skin, not needing to see the words to feel them rattling in his head and chilling his heart.

She couldn't look away from his hand, and the piece of paper in it. Robert's mood chilled her – it absolutely terrified her in fact, to see him so shaken, his smiles so false and forced. Robert had always been the strong one – he had always stood so firm when Cora had kicked and screamed, but now he could barely meet her eye. It seemed absurd to ask him how he was, when the answer was so blatantly staring her in the face. He could pretend all he liked, but Cora knew him better than that, and whatever it was it would no doubt shatter what fragile peace remained in their lives. She was almost too scared to find out.

"It's dreadful," she murmured, fiddling with the material of her nightgown as if the distraction might bring normalcy back into the room. But things had changed long before this afternoon – they'd changed the minute she'd lost their child. Could things _ever _go back to the way they were now? Robert's distance in comparison to the warmth he had displayed this afternoon left her cold, and she wondered whether it would always be this way, or whether he'd one day be able to look at her without that brief flicker of disappointment in his eyes.

"Have you spoken with Matthew?" Cora's eyes flickered to the letter yet again. Perhaps if she stared at it long enough, it would tell her its contents; it seemed Robert had no intention of divulging the words just yet.

"I can't imagine him not enlisting, Robert."

As much as it pained him to consider it Robert knew that Cora was right. He had spent some time earlier trying to think of anything he could possibly say to Matthew that might make the young man reconsider but Robert knew his attempts would be folly. Matthew would go and if he tried to stop him, well…quite apart from the fact that Matthew was a grown man who could do as he pleased, Robert knew it would make him a hypocrite and he couldn't bear that.

The thought of legions of young men going to their deaths whilst he sat idle at Downton, safe behind his stone walls and title whilst men died was impossible to consider. He would go. The paper was a telegram – it only now occurred to him that they must have made their minds up to wire him almost immediately after war was announced and the thought gave him a small sense of pride that he knew Cora would never understand.

"Oh he'll enlist. Were he any other man than he is I would offer to at least keep him away from the fighting, but I suspect he will find it insulting."

Slowly, as though it cost him something to do it, Robert sat on the bed besides Cora and reached for her hand. He took a breath and knew that if he was required to be brave again, it would have to begin now.

"My dear, I'm afraid there is something else I need to tell you."

Cora's visibly faltered. So he _was_ going to tell her what on earth he had clutched in his hand, and if it wasn't about Matthew... She suppressed a shiver, raising her free hand to her arm in an attempt to counter the chill that had come on so suddenly. It had not been like this when O'Brien had been tending to her; the room had been warm, stiflingly so, and she'd felt it all around her, like a comforting – if slightly confused – blanket. She had still been afraid of course, there was no escaping the realities of this war, even in the safety of her lady's maid's presence and feeling the warmth of her gentle, reverent touch – but now she was _petrified_.

The prospect of losing Matthew to the war was very difficult to comprehend, but whatever he was about to tell her would be so much worse, she could _feel_ it in the way he gripped her hand and in the tightness of his shoulders, and in the way he _still _couldn't quite meet her eyes. Cora swallowed thickly, gripping his hand, both to give support and receive it, and sucked in a steadying breath. Whatever it was it was best to be prepared. But how could it be any worse than what they'd been through already?

"I thought as much." Her thumb lightly caressed the back of his hand in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture. They would face whatever it was together, as they always did. She softened her voice, until it was little more than a whisper. "What is it, darling?"

He couldn't stand to look in her eyes at the moment. After twenty-six years he knew what he would find there - the love, the _trust _- and he couldn't bear to see either of those things go away at his words. Instead he stared at their joined hands and wondered how Cora would react when he was obliged to let go of her hand. This afternoon she had said she felt better for this very action: how much would she despise him for doing his duty? He didn't claim to understand her emotions but he knew her well enough to know how she would react.

"I received this telegram a short while and ago and..." He squeezed her hand tighter and bit the bullet, looking up into her eyes and trying to speak as softly as possible - the last thing Cora needed was more grief, but it couldn't be helped. "My dear it seems I have been summoned to London, and then possibly to France, to join in the war effort."

It was strange really how little the words frightened him when spoken aloud. In his head they had been a turmoil but now it was as though a tonic had been placed upon a fresh wound; the idea was sinking in and he was growing accustomed to the thought of war once more.

He doubted Cora would feel quite the same way.

"To join the war effort?"

And then suddenly, it all clicked into place. Robert's nervousness, the way he seemed to tiptoe around her, the grip he had on that ominous piece of paper and the sheen of white on his face. Her husband was a good man, _too _good, and his heart spoke of duty and honour and all those other qualities which were admirable under any other circumstances, but could get a man killed. The kind of qualities which drove men to fight a war, and Robert had them to excess. She felt a tremendous swell of nausea, coupled with a stabbing pain in her heart that rivalled even the pain she had felt after losing their child.

_Oh Robert, you stupid, noble fool!_

"You're going to war," she breathed, aghast.

Losing a child had been one thing, but losing her _husband_…it was unimaginable. Worse than any pain she could _ever _feel and the fact he was doing this voluntarily tore through her fragile heart and pierced her to the core.

Her grip on his hand alternately loosened and tightened with the indecision of whether she could even bear to touch him right now! Because deep down she knew, even if perhaps he hadn't admitted it to himself, that he was not leaving simply because it was the right thing to do, but because he wanted to be as far away from her as he could and away from the grief and the wife who had lost his son.

"This is not your war, Robert. You have done your duty; you have fought for your country. Now you have an estate, you have a _family_. You have m-"

She cut herself off and drew in a deep breath at the swell of anger deep inside. How could he even think of leaving her, by choice, after all that had happened, no matter how disappointed he might be?

"If you leave now-"

He might have known she would react like this. The one thing he had always found troublesome in his wife's manner was the lack of control she displayed over her emotions. His Mother had never broken, never wavered at all no matter what calamities befell her and Downton and even Rosamund at least had the decency to express her emotions through meddling. But this emotional weakness was something he had feared she would pass down to their daughters. It wasn't British, it was altogether too American.

"_If_ I leave now? My dear, I'm afraid there is very little you or I can do about this. I am fit and able and, irregardless of whether I have a family or an estate...or you darling," he dropped the paper onto the bed, unable to forget the words as he lifted the hand and cupped Cora's cheek. "I simply _must _go. A man's duty to his country is never complete Cora."

He knew she couldn't understand. She had once proclaimed to understand the bonds men made when they fought side by side, but how on earth could she? The closest she came to camaraderie was the alliance that had sprung up between her and his Mother and how could that compare? She had not understood his wanting to keep Bates on and had used Bates' employment in the face of his impairment as a counter when he had tried to get rid of that vile woman that haunted his wife's rooms.

Cora had thought he was just being petulant about it and probably thought the same now. She would of course. She wasn't too level-headed at the best of times and the grief over the baby...oh god, the baby, seemed to have made her worse. But she _must _be made to understand.

"I _will _be going."

Cora jerked her face back from Robert's hold, and her hand followed suit. Her stomach twisted as she sucked in a quiet, little breath and tried desperately not to give in to the emotions surging through her. She was torn between anger and pain, between bursting into tears and slapping his calm, resolute face. How could he speak and act so calmly about this? A week ago they had lost a child and now he was going to _war_. Cora wanted to scream and shout, but Robert merely sat there, still and unyielding. He had never had any intention of discussing this with her – her opinion obviously mattered nought. He has received his telegram and made up his mind, and not a damn thing she could say would change that, no matter how _stupid _his decision was!

She tried again. "This is not your war Robert; you have no business involving yourself in it. You have _no_ business leaving me and leaving your children, not again. You'll get yourself _killed_!"

Because that was what she was really afraid of, wasn't it?

Twenty-six years, three children, and this was what their marriage had amounted to? A week ago Robert would not have _dreamed _of treating her so blithely, of not consulting her over something so supremely important – a matter of life and death! But a week ago she had not lost his child. Cora refused to let the hurt show on her face though, pushing past it as she clenched her fists by her side, fearful of the damage she might do with her hands should she not restrain them.

She clenched her jaw, the urge to strike him returning in full force. "You are _not_ going to war. If you leave me, I swear I will _never _forgive you."

"Leave you? For goodness sake Cora, this war is about a great deal more than your feelings!"

He was glad she had dropped his hand, it saved him the bother of doing it now. He knew he shouldn't be angry, what could she know of honour and fighting for one's country? America wouldn't even turn up to the bloody war, he was sure of that.

"And as for forgiving me, well, I think I've done quite enough forgiving over the years for my leaving _to fight _not to create too great a rift between us."

The baby was still a sore point and he couldn't help it. He knew it wasn't her fault; it had been an accident and it could have happened to any of them - he might have guessed it would be his clumsy wife though - but nevertheless Robert couldn't help the pangs of disappointment that shot through him. It wasn't disappointment in Cora really, more just a longing for what might have been, how simple things might have been if they'd just had a son. And even in the dire situation of war the country now found itself in it would have still been perfect. The boy would have been far too young to be involved and when he returned, because he knew he would, Cora didn't seem to understand that he was hardly going to be sat in a muddy ditch.

"The decision has been made."

If Robert had been trying to wound her, he had succeeded admirably. Cora imagined there was nothing that Robert could say, that _anyone _could say, that could hurt her more. She knew precisely what he had meant; there was no mistaking the truth lingering behind his words. She had lost the child. She had killed his son. And now, he would hold that over her, wrapped around her neck like a noose, until the day she died.

But what hurt the most was the _truth_ of his words, no matter how callous or harsh they might seem from a loving husband to his wife. Robert could blame her for the miscarriage, as he clearly did; he could pin every shred of his pain and anger and disappointment on her, and he would be _right_ to. Cora had no-one to blame but herself. _She_ had slipped, _she _had fallen – on half a bar of soap, for heaven's sake! Only _she_ could be so clumsy as to manage _that _dubious feat. And now the baby was dead, and it was all her fault. O'Brien could comfort her all she liked, but Cora would never forgive herself.

"Forgiving?" she echoed flatly, clenching her fists by her side. Her nails dug so hard into her palms that she thought she might draw blood. "What exactly have you forgiven Robert?"

Her failure to give him an heir, no doubt. Cora had not been oblivious to the disappointment that had clouded their marriage – it had existed as long as Edith had been alive. She'd tried so hard and she'd been _so_sure Edith would be a boy. She would never forget the look on Robert's face, though it had existed for a mere three seconds before vanishing behind a veil of paternal warmth. Disappointment. Doubt. It was on his face now.

She pushed on, not wanting to hear his answer. "If you leave me Robert, do not expect me to be the same woman when you come back!"

Her anger was understandable he supposed but the indignation seemed out of place. He had said nothing that was not true. Forgiving was perhaps not the right word, he had not felt the need to forgive Cora, but rather he had needed to settle with his own conscience their combined failure at producing a son. He knew he was as much to blame for the failure to create a son, but now the anger bubbled in him at Cora's words and tones.

He had kept it suppressed easily by smothering it with grief but now the thought came powering into his mind without control – he _had_ made a son. There _had _been a boy and Cora's foolishness had left him dead. He loved her, he always would he supposed, but something between them had changed irrevocably. When it had been a combined failure it was easier to bear and, unlike his Mother, he had been willing to admit he was just as involved, but this was different. This was Cora's fault.

He stood from the bed and faced away from her, retrieving his telegram from the bed.

"Perhaps my desire to leave would not be so great if you were the wife and _mother _you should have been all along!"

He reached out and rang the bell a tad violently.

"Call O'Brien back if you wish, I shall not be remaining here tonight."

Something broke inside Cora then, perhaps her heart, and there was no avoiding the sob that escaped her lips. His words were bitter confirmation of everything she had suspected he felt. Cora had clung onto Robert's belief in her, to his love, despite her conviction of her own guilt – she had lost their son but she hadn't lost him, but now it seemed she had been wrong. He had never been more distant from her than he was right now, and Cora had no idea how to bridge the gap between them, or whether she even could.

Gritting her teeth, Cora's hands itched to do something; to throw something, to hit him, or to wrap around his goddamn neck. Robert spoke of duty, of honour, of nobility, of fighting for something _greater _than him, for some higher purpose – but all he was really doing was running away! He was not leaving to fight for his country; he was leaving to get away from _her_, from the grief and the growing gulf between them.

She choked back a bitter laugh as he turned to leave, and hit him where it would _really _hurt, striking his male pride which as much venom as she could muster.

"So you're leaving to escape a domestic squabble? How brave of you, Robert. Perhaps you should reconsider – I doubt Lord Kitchener wants a _coward _in his army."

He took a deep breath but would not turn back to speak to her. The tone of her voice was colder than he had ever heard it and it cut him to his hear to hear her speak in such a way, but he refused to give in and turn back to her. If he did his resolve might crumble and he might change his mind, or at least be tempted to reconsider.

He was going, she would not sway him. And if she imagined she was still going to get her own way when she spoke to him in such a way, he couldn't help but snap back, turning his head slightly, seeing her blurred figure out of the corner of his eye but not daring to look her in the eye.

"And I doubt my Father would care for having what tiny amount of his Grandson ever existed buried next to him."

He regretted the words the moment they had left his mouth but knew there was nothing to do about them now. Instead he walked away and reached for the door, slamming it behind him.

Cora did not mean to be so bitter, but anger was her only defence. Her heart was so fragile right now that even a poorly aimed barb made by her husband could pull her apart from the very foundations, and this was not a poorly aimed barb – it was unequivocally the most painful thing he could have said. Her words had been harsh yes, and god she had regretted them the second they had slipped from her lips and has seen his shoulders stiffen, but she didn't deserve this...did she? Even if it _was _true.

She had disappointed them _all_.

But instead of the sobs she knew would come later, Cora began to feel a swell of white hot anger forming, beginning deep in her belly and building to a shrieking high. She could barely see for all of the force of her anger, and from the tears practically blinding her as they spilled free, and, lost to all rationality and reason, she reached for the nearest object – a priceless vase Mama had given them as a wedding present – and hurled it as hard as she could across the room, the vase shattering immediately upon impact against the wall, the pieces scattering across the room. _Fitting_, she thought bitterly as she regarded the broken china with a small measure of satisfaction. _Just like my heart._

She knew Robert would hear it and she hoped to god he did, and sank back onto the bed, hand clasped over her mouth to muffle the whimper she refused to let him hear.


	3. The Calm Before

Sarah found Thomas moping in the yard. She didn't know for sure he was moping but she'd known him for a good few years now and after the announcement it would be very unlike him to be cheerful. At least she could always rely on _Thomas _to be in the mood she expected him to be.

"How's your eye?"

A small smirk played over her lips. He really had had the thumping coming from William but she was hardly going to take that muppet's side after all they'd been through was she? After he'd skulked off she'd found him with some ice and given him a sharp clip round the back of the head for being so daft in the first place. William might be a pushover but he was younger and bigger than Thomas - and what had he bloody expected banging on about his Mother like that? She didn't approve but had been more bothered by his assessment of Lady Grantham. Of _course _they shouldn't live through them, but it was impossible to explain to Thomas why she felt so guilty. She doubted she'd tell anyone as long as she lived.

"S'fine," Thomas muttered scornfully, and shot Sarah a scathing look. To tell the truth it was throbbing like hell and no doubt he was going to look a right state come morning, but he was hardly going to admit that, even to her. She was as bad as the rest of them, looking so aggrieved over the death of a baby barely formed enough to kick? There were worse things happening every day in this wretched world than a stuck-up American cow taking a bit of a tumble. Like the war. He'd stick all he had on the assumption Lady Grantham hadn't even _thought _about what the war would mean for pitiful bastards like him.

He sniffed and lifted the cigarette to his lips, taking a long drag and using the opportunity to give Sarah a once over. He'd noticed it the second she moved into the yard, lacking the usual swagger, and that air of disdain for the muppets around them that had convinced him she was worth bothering with in the first place, all those years ago – there was something different about her. Thomas didn't profess to be an expert in human observation, but he knew a miserable cow when he saw one, and O'Brien was as bloody moody as they came, smirk or no smirk.

"What the bloody 'ell's wrong with you?"

She glanced up him, surprised he had assessed her mood so easily. Alright she wasn't exactly doing cartwheels over the floor and if anyone was actually going to notice it would be Thomas, but she'd thought he would be too tangled up in his own worries to notice. Was it worth lying? Not really she supposed. Not to Thomas at any rate.

"Nothin' much. Been in with 'er greatness…s'pose 'er moods rubbed off."

She slumped into a seat on the bench and reached into her pocket for her cigarettes, lighting one quickly to distract herself from thinking too much about the time she had just spent with her employer. It had never been like that before. The emotions had reached fever pitch and she'd felt decidedly uncomfortable and supposed Lady Grantham must have done too. To be that raw with a _servant _must be a great embarrassment to her.

"'er Majesty's concerned about the war then, is she?"

Thomas snorted, letting the smoke fill his lungs and spill free of his mouth in a lazy cloud. He couldn't help the derision in his voice. What right did the Countess of bloody Grantham have to fret her pretty little head? He couldn't see his lordship signing up and gallantly going off to fight; besides, he was knocking on a bit – Lord Grantham was hardly cannon fodder, and so the Countess had nothing to lose. If _he_ felt sick to his stomach at the idea of her Majesty wailing and weeping over the lives of nameless, faceless strangers she'd never give a second glance, it was no bloody surprise Sarah looked as unsettled as she did.

"Bet that was a bloody treat for you. I don't know 'ow you managed to hold back from smacking her smug face."

"I might one of these days."

It was easier to fall back into her usual habit of bad-mouthing Cora, rather than admit that their relationship – this "friendship", as her ladyship put it – seemed to be progressing and perhaps wasn't as elusive as Sarah had always thought it. Thomas probably couldn't understand. He'd spent so many years now believing the titled were all the same and she had been there with him for every scathing comment, every rage, every bit of vitriol, how on earth could he understand that things might already be changing and she, _she _of all people was softening towards her mistress.

She took a deep drag of her cigarette, letting the cloud of smoke curl around her and wondering, entirely forgetting Cora for a moment, how many more times she and Thomas would be able to do this. Perhaps it was worth being a bit more aggressive about her ladyship? Just for old times sake.

"She was bangin' on about whether America would join the war...like it'll make the blindest bit of difference to 'er! All the lads she knew must be too old to fight by now so god knows what she's worryin' about!"

Sarah couldn't help but feel a bit sickened with herself. Even after this afternoon and her ongoing guilt writhing inside her, the bile still came all to easily to her lips.

If Thomas had had a penny for every time O'Brien had said that…well, he wouldn't be a bloody footman, that was for sure. Her threats against her ladyship were varied and numerous, but that's all they were – threats. He knew, even if the daft cow didn't, that for all of her spitting and hissing Sarah O'Brien had a soft spot for her mistress, and a bleedin' big one at that. He heard it in her voice sometimes, even when she was threatening bodily harm, and saw it in the way she handled her things like they'd fall apart at the slightest touch. Even now he found it hard to believe she was _really _annoyed at Lady Grantham, not after the way she'd fawned over her at the garden party.

He hid his smirk behind her cigarette, taking a long drag and letting the smoke linger. It unnerved him sometimes, her loyalty to a woman who was no better than the rest of them in his opinion, even if she smiled a bit more than the others or deigned to address him in that ridiculous accent. But, as long as she kept up the _pretence _of hating her over a fag, O'Brien could be in _love_ with her Majesty for all he cared. He nearly laughed at the absurdity of that thought. Fond she might be of the cow, but she'd never be stupid enough to _fall _for her. He'd made that mistake before, with an altogether different aristocrat.

"Not to mention 'is lordship," he snorted, letting a heap of ash fall to the floor. "Can't see 'im in a soldier's uniform, can you Miss O'Brien?"

"No I can't and thank goodness for that."

She raised an eyebrow and spoke in her most monotonous and scathing voice.

"Then again, I'm not relishing the thought of seein' any of you in uniforms."

The rest of her meaning went unsaid. She knew he would understand that though she was thinking of Branson and William, and perhaps even Mr Crawley at a push, the bulk of her concern was for him. He had been her friend for so many years now they had blurred together and _god_ it has been a struggle at times. Sometimes she wishes he could find some contentment at Downton - it had taken them so long to end up in a good place together - but she understood that being a footman, even a _first _footman, was something of an insult to his intelligence.

And he had always been that. A bit daft at times maybe, a tiny bit prone to being led by some unscrupulous bastards who promised him the world, but he had never been stupid and he deserved better than his lot in life. They had always clung on desperately to the thought that they both did. But she, despite herself, would be alright here, if only she could, just for one second, feel like she was safe. She supposed she was safer now than she'd ever been. Her ladyship's fragile state meant she was unlikely to get rid of her most belligerent constant in life and the war...well the war might mean that it would be all hands on deck soon and hands as experienced as Sarah's in the business of servitude would be more sought after than any young, wet-behind-the-ears housemaid.

With a snort of amusement that pushed the smoke from her mouth Sarah wondered whether, once the men were gone, Mr Carson would be calling upon her and Mrs Hughes to serve at dinner. Surely it was still more preferable that a housemaid even if it was significantly beneath the dignity of their stations?

Thomas wondered, just for a moment, exactly what there was to laugh at, besides the thought of William in a soldier's uniform. It occurred to him William wouldn't last a minute on a battle field, even if they trained him for the next bloody decade; he had cannon fodder practically written on his forehead. For one astonishing second he felt a wave of sympathy that he buried quick and deep, and took a puff of his rapidly disappearing cigarette to hide it from the woman next to him, not that he could – she didn't miss a bloody thing. But just because O'Brien was going soft didn't mean _he _had to too.

"Let's 'ope Bates does his valiant duty and signs up." He smirked at Sarah, stubbing out his spent cigarette. "Then again I'd rather get myself blown up than be 'ere listening to Anna's snivelling over her brave bloody John. I think I'll be 'appier in France than you will be 'ere."

He doubted that, but what point was there in being a miserable bastard and crying over something neither he nor the bloody _government _could change, not that they'd ever been much help. He needed another cigarette.

Sensing his need - if he could Thomas would always have a fag on the go and frequently smoked two in succession - Sarah reached into her pocket and offered her pack, being utterly unsurprised when one was immediately taken.

"I think you might be right. I'll 'ave Daisy an' all won't I? Cryin' over Bates is pathetic enough, if I 'ave to listen to someone crying over William too I might go mad."

She struck a match and held it up for him, balancing her own cigarette between poised lips and feeling her eye twitch slightly from the smoke furling into it. She was long since used to the sting by now and it didn't bother her. She only hoped Thomas would put it all down to the smoke and not think she was going soft. She wasn't. It was just a bit of a shock to think of this man, this _boy _really, whom she had known for so many years, fighting with something a bit more serious than his fists. And her ladyship wasn't getting any better. She tossed the match away and observed him critically.

"You will write won't you?"

Thomas couldn't count the number of cigarettes O'Brien had given him over the years, and everything else she'd done for him, Bates included, but had never asked for anything in return, other than a few sharp words and his ear when she needed to rant about her ladyship.

He got bored hearing about her sometimes, about the things she said and the things she did, and the way the silly cow couldn't bloody dress herself or do _anything _really, other than sit prettily with a silver spoon in her gob and ring the bell. He supposed she wasn't the worst of the lot, but she'd been bang out of order that day in the kitchen, when she'd flounced in and ripped O'Brien to shreds, in public no less and in front of Bates and Anna. But the worst thing had been her face. He'd never seen Sarah O'Brien look like that before, like she'd had her bleedin' world torn apart. Cora Crawley didn't deserve Sarah O'Brien, and – though he'd never admit it – Thomas had half been hoping she would want him to write. She was all he had after all.

Instead he shrugged and took a heady puff.

"If it 'elps you sleep at night."

His ears pricked up at a sound in the distance, through the door and down the corridor, and a smirk curled over his lips. "Think I can 'ear the bell ringin'. I'll bet you anythin' it's 'er callin' for you. Hughsie'll be shriekin' for you any minute now."

Sure enough, as Sarah turned to the door, awaiting her summons, a voice could be heard taking her name in vain inside. She decided not to bother letting Hughes know where she was. She handed her cigarette to Thomas - how did the little bugger smoke so quickly anyway? - and rolled her eyes in the direction of the kitchen.

"When you go back in tell 'er know I'm already there. Let her think I know what 'er ladyship wants before 'er majesty knows it herself."

She looked vaguely smug; half the staff already thought Cora's needs were like a dog whistle that only Sarah's ears could hear and she was quite happy for them to carry on believing it. Idiots like Daisy and William - oh god...poor daft lad was probably going to sign up... - looked upon that particular skill with some trepidation and Sarah wondered how many of them looked at her and Hughes and Mrs Patmore and bloody Bates and Mr Carson as a warning sign of what a life in service would do to you. Knowing what your employer did before they knew it themselves, without a family, without any real love. Sometimes Sarah watched Hughes and Patmore battle over the storeroom key and felt herself want to cry with frustration.

Was the possibility of being a Housekeeper, of being like Mrs Hughes, all she had to look forward to?

Christ, she thought she'd prefer to sign up for the war herself. At least it would be bloody quick then.

Dodging back the irate sounds of the Scotch woman in the kitchen Sarah swept up the back stairs silently, heading towards Cora and whatever had caused her to ring the bell before she usually did. Sarah had a feeling it couldn't be good.

It was going to be a long night.


	4. Amongst the Ruins

A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews so far! We really appreciate the encouragement and it's so nice to know people are enjoying it. Things are about to heat up!

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><p>Sarah climbed up the stairs with more speed that she generally did. If she'd been thinking with any clarity, rather than a mind overtired and plagued by confusion, she would have checked herself, but something wasn't right.<p>

Cora never called for her at this time of night. Once she was asleep there was precious little that could rouse her, as Sarah had discovered many years ago now, and she never called for Sarah after she had been dressed. But his lordship…something must have happened.

As she approached the door Sarah, mirroring their positions from scarcely twenty minutes before, watched his lordship storm out of the bedroom and heard a shatter from inside.

He left and Sarah, all but running as her concern grew, reached the door and, breaking the habit of her entire career, and went immediately inside without knocking. She had a feeling she wouldn't get much of a response if she bothered with formalities. Cora must have been furious. Her hair was wild and her cheeks flushed, her eyes darker than Sarah had ever seen them and she was breathing erratically.

The shattered remains of the vase Cora had thrown crunched underfoot and Sarah was momentarily at a loss as to what to say. On the other hand Cora had not immediately dismissed her so her presence couldn't have been entirely unwanted.

"Can I help you with anything your ladyship?" Sarah rolled her eyes at herself, what the hell use was procedure and politeness at a moment like this? "There's a vase from the Dowager Countess in the 'allway that might be rather satisfying if you fancy it m'lady?"

Cora froze for a moment, looking at O'Brien, before she began to laugh, quietly at first, but building until she was practically breathless and having to clutch at her stomach. But it lasted for barely a minute before a sob came out instead, a sob she muffled quickly behind a shaking hand.

"Oh god…my husband is a fool."

Sarah had always thought this herself, but the distress and despair in Cora's voice prevented her from giving the reckless response she dearly wanted to.

"I couldn't possibly comment m'lady." She tried to smile at Cora, even just a friendly gesture as they had shared earlier might be some use. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Stop him from leaving?" Cora answered without hesitation, hating herself for being so vulnerable yet again. Poor O'Brien. After her behaviour this last week and in particular, this afternoon she must think her mistress was losing her mind.

Sarah felt at a loss and answered, her own hands shaking slightly, with forced levity.

"I could always ask Mr Bates to hide all of 'is shoes?" She was desperately trying to cheer Cora up and make her laugh again. She had such a wonderful laugh and she had done precious little of it these last few weeks.

For her part Cora couldn't help but smile, mostly at her maid's attempts to cheer her, rather than the thought itself. She reached once again to grasp her maid's hand tight.

"The world is going mad, O'Brien. _He's _gone mad. I don't know what to do, and that frightens me."

Sarah squeezed back.

"We're all frightened m'lady. His lordship's as scared as anyone. He'll only be doing his duty. Why on earth would he leave you if he didn't have to?"

"He _has _no duty, O'Brien. You know as well as I do this is not his war to fight!" Scoffing, she closed her eyes. O'Brien had seen her cry enough for one day. "He's leaving because of the baby. I saw the truth in his eyes."

"M'lady," the urge to pull the other woman into her arms was almost overwhelming. She felt the stabs of guilt in her stomach again. "He wouldn't do that. His lordship l-loves you." She nearly choked on the word. Lady's maids never spoke of love.

"He loved the child too. And I killed it, simply because I was not careful."

The guilt was so strong, Sarah was barely able to breath from the pressure on her chest and the worst thing was to see how much guilt Cora felt too, when she was entirely blameless.

"I'm no fool, O'Brien. The way he looked at me, the way he spoke, the things he said-" she broke off. "I think I may have lost his love, and no wonder."

Sarah felt her chest clench and she nearly retched. She wanted to pull her hand away but it seemed to be the only thing still keeping Cora grounded. Her ladyship should be directing this at her, it was all her fault! There were tears in her eyes as well as her ladyship's when she spoke and she forgot exactly who she was addressing to for a moment, speaking as though this woman were her friend. As though she ever could be.

"It wasn't your fault. It was mine - if I'd picked up the other bloody piece when I should 'ave...And you could never lose his love. Everyone can see he adores you. Just...just tell him it was me an' I'll go and..."

"Go?" Cora's eyes snapped up. Piercing into Sarah's. "Oh, O'Brien-" she reached for the woman's other hand and clutched it tightly, hanging on for dear life. "Don't you _ever _say such a thing! What happened was not your fault and I refuse to have you think such nonsense! If I had just paid more attention..."

"I should have done something. Got to the Doctor quicker...m'lady I knew it was there, I tried to shout to tell you not to move but it was too late. I'm so sorry." They were both gripping onto one another's hands with excessive force but neither seemed to mind. "M'lady, I'm sorry. I should be sent away. His Lordship can be angry at me, I deserve it."

She lowered her head, overwhelmed with the onslaught of emotions powering through her, unable to face Cora in the moment.

"O'Brien, there was nothing else you could have done," Cora urged breathlessly, desperate for the woman to see the truth as she did.

O'Brien seemed shaken by guilt; how had she not realised until now? How badly she must think of her! Releasing Sarah's hands, she pressed her own to her cheeks, cupping her face firmly.

"You did all that you could...if you hadn't found me on the floor, I might have bled to death. You saved my life; it was not your responsibility to save the child's too! You told me that it was there, I _knew _it was there, but I didn't check, it was my fault!"

Slowly Sarah nodded. Her ladyship's hands were shaking but she held fast, holding on for dear life no doubt. Sarah held onto her wrists, running her thumbs over the back of Cora's hands, as she felt herself fight back tears and win, as she always did.

"I'm sorry m'lady, the last think you need is me being silly. I should 'ave... It wasn't your fault though, you have to believe that. If I couldn't have done anything then neither could you m'lady... you slipped, it was just an accident..."

Her mind went unerringly back to the exact moment she had found Cora on the floor. Gasping for air, clearly in agony and blood beginning to mingle with the bath water splashed across the floor. She shuddered at the mental image.

An accident that cost a man his child. Cost my husband his son, Cora wanted to say. Her heart clenched in agony. As long as she lived, no matter what O'Brien said, what Robert said…Cora would never forgive herself.

"There was nothing we could have done," she whispered. The words sounded so hollow to her ears, but she forced herself to believe them, for O'Brien's sake, if not hers.

Instinctively, her breathing ragged from grief and emotion, she leaned to brush her lips against O'Brien's forehead.

"Thank you for saving my life."

O'Brien bowed her head slightly. It felt rather like she was receiving blessing from a Priest. Perhaps this was the closest she was ever going to get to absolution for her sins. Her ladyship's lips lingered on her forehead and she cursed the moment, both for making her entire body flush (probably with shame, she thought) and for ending. She needed the contact as much as her ladyship did apparently.

"I'd..."

For a moment she nearly said she'd give her own life if it would make Cora whole again, give her the baby back.

"I wish I could have saved the child's too. I'd have done anything m'lady, if I could. Please know that..." Her ladyship opened her mouth and for the first time ever Sarah cut over her. "I'd have saved yours first though m'lady. Every time."

Cora could barely speak for the lump of emotion choking the back of her throat. It seemed so silly, in light of how incredibly close they had become in what seemed like a mere five minutes, to attempt to hide her emotions from this woman. Cora needed this right now, the physical contact and the emotional connection. Robert was leaving her, but Sarah would not, she was certain of that.

After a moment of holding the same position Cora began to come back to her sense. The display of emotions left her shaken – goodness, she seemed to have spent most of the evening in the same state – and she released Sarah's hand. She smiled slight at the other woman, a gesture that was tentatively returned and took a step away. It wasn't really Sarah she was distancing herself from, but rather the emotions she represented. It seemed to Cora like she needed the other woman most when she was having a crisis and the thought of being able to approach Sarah without needing her, but rather just wanting her company, suddenly seemed like an idea worth exploring.

Perhaps assessing her simpler troubles would be easier? She was warm. From the argument, her tears, the heat of the night and the slight fever she was sure she was contracting. It was a problem she could manage without Sarah O'Brien though.

She reached up and shed her dressing gown gleefully, draping it over the back of a chair and sighing as the cool air hit the skin exposed by the thin nightdress. She felt better already and she smiled over at Sarah, feeling slightly foolish in the back of her mind at being so pleased with herself for achieving something so simple but knowing Sarah wouldn't mock her. She sat on the bed and contemplated the other woman.

Her smile stuck as something occurred to her. _Sarah_. Curious, but she had never thought of O'Brien in such a way before. She had always been O'Brien, always.

"Sarah," she spoke, thoughtfully, letting the name roll from her tongue. "It's a very beautiful name," she concluded softly.

The heat flooded through Sarah's body at a much more rapid pace, eased along by her bulky dress and she was unable to ignore the discomfort. Her dress was stifling and it occurred to her that maybe this was why servants were so placid most of the time - their clothes punished them if they so much as thought about letting their hearts beat too quickly with rage, excitement or lust. She tried to swallow the lump at the back of her throat but found her mouth had run completely dry. She licked her lips instead and that at least alleviated some of the problem. Although, she thought, her ladyship had probably seen her do it, which was certainly something Sarah was not supposed to do in front of her employer.

Sarah shifted where she stood, it finally hitting her like a ton of bricks exactly what her ladyship had said - usually she just allowed the kittenish tones to roll over her, but this took her back to their conversation earlier that evening. Cora had never asked about her past and had never commented on her name. Other than when she was hired Sarah didn't remember anyone, with the exception of Thomas, calling her by her Christian name.

"Thank you m'lady. I always thought it a bit plain, not like..." _'Yours'_ she ended in her head. It occurred to her that this was an odder situation than they had ever been in together. Her ladyship didn't swan around in her nightdress like this, like she was swanning around in front of _him_, and Sarah had never had to return to her smelling of smoke before.

She wished for the air again. The room had been warm earlier but it was stiflingly hot now. Sarah pulled briefly at her collar, being unsurprised when it did no good.

"Mine?" Cora concluded, releasing a small laugh. It felt good to laugh, and indeed to smile. Though still in turmoil over the child, over Robert and his insistence upon leaving her, she deserved a brief moment of respite. Didn't she?

She told herself to relax. The other woman seemed to be uncomfortable now, although Cora couldn't understand why, and, watching her shift awkwardly and lick her lips, she hoped that by relaxing herself, Sarah would follow suit. She gestured to the seat on the bed next to her.

"I'm afraid that I have never liked my name. It's so…American."

Throughout her two decades in England her name had been a constant reminder, as well as the accent most seemed to find so unbearable, that she did not belong. Failing to produce an heir had not helped. She sobered slightly, yet again losing her smile.

Cora had stopped smiling. For a moment, despite the fact that she seemed to be boiling over from her chest in every direction, Sarah had been relieved to see her ladyship smile and even laugh but it had stopped and that was unacceptable at the moment.

Right...what had she said in the first place? That she liked her name? But her ladyship didn't like it...wait, her ladyship liked the name 'Sarah', she'd said so, she must be talking about her own. But why? She supposed it was rather American. Growing up she had known plenty of Sarah's and even Edith's and Mary's and Sybil's but a Cora would have been unheard of.

"Well, I like it m'lady. It reminds me of those precious stones," she gestured vaguely towards where most of her ladyship's jewellery lived but upon racking her mind, couldn't think of single piece of coral that her ladyship owned. Her hand froze when she realised what she had just said. She wondered if there was any chance her ladyship hadn't heard. Or if Thomas would mind her tagging along with him.

Or if they could at least open a window so she could get some bloody air, her skin was burning!

Perhaps she was ill? Maybe she should mention it to her ladyship: she didn't want the other woman catching her probably fatal flushing disease on top of everything. As she sat down next to Cora on the bed, as she had been bidden to do, she noticed that the other woman looked quite warm already. Her cheeks were flushed and the skin across her neck seemed to get pinker the further Sarah's eyes travelled down...

As Sarah continued to babble, Cora found herself feeling more and more concerned for her health. O'Brien's cheeks were flushed bright red, and she seemed claustrophobic in her restrictive clothing. Cora felt a momentary flash of guilt. Here she was, shedding her clothing in order to cool herself down whilst the other woman sat there in her heavy black skirts!

"Are you quite well, Sarah?" Cora asked gently, leaning to gently rest her hand against the other woman's knee, squeezing the flesh.

It occurred to her that had she not argued with Robert, O'Brien would not be tending to her at such a late hour. Guilt once again consumed her, her hand still resting on the black material covering O'Brien's leg. She most likely had better things to do than babysit her fragile mistress. Perhaps she did not wish to be here at all. "Would you like to lie down?"

Sarah didn't hear her at first. The burning seemed to be coming from her knee now but the rest of her was still distinctly flushed. She glanced up and saw Cora's concerned expression and felt something heavy fall in her stomach. _Oh no…not that._

She gave a brief nervous laugh.

"No, m'lady. I'm not faint, just very warm." She tugged at her collar once more to demonstrate the problem and wished she could shed the bloody dress altogether. In the back of her head she cursed previous scores of lady's maid and their mistresses for deciding that their uniform had to be so restrictive. At least Anna and Daisy were permitted collarbones!

If she'd been in a sound state of mind she'd have seen to her ladyship's need and excused herself to get out of this stifling material and maybe manage a final fag outside with Thomas in their dressing gowns, it wouldn't be the first time. But instead she found she couldn't move from her seat on her ladyship's bed - perhaps with her temperature she had welded herself to it?

Cora's frown did not budge, concern still plastered over her face as she peered up at the other woman.

"Perhaps you have a temperature," she suggested worriedly. It was not unexpected for a woman to experience such hot flushes whilst sporting such tight and restrictive clothing. Cora had, on many occasions, fallen victim to such discomfort. But she was positive that O'Brien was afflicted with something other than a simple increase in temperature. After all, she had not been so stifled before. It had come on so suddenly.

Her hand releasing the other woman's knee, it came up instead to rest against the hot flesh of her neck, Cora's fingers gently loosening the material at her throat so that they could creep underneath, resting lightly onto the bare skin beneath Sarah's collarbone. She had done this before, for her children, when they had been sick and the governess had been unavailable. She had told her to first feel the flesh, before the forehead. It briefly occurred to her that O'Brien had very soft skin, but she very quickly dismissed the thought.

"You don't seem to have a temperature," she said gently, her fingers lingering, still unmoving. "I think the problem is your dress. You need to remove it O'Brien, you're overheating. You must have been wearing it since _dawn_."

The suddenness was what concerned Sarah the most. She'd been hot earlier, no doubt about it, but she'd been fine outside with Thomas hadn't she? And now back here with her ladyship she was melting again. A spark shot through her mind at the possible cause but she pushed it away with all her might. She was _not_like Thomas.

Cora said something about a temperature that she shook her head at vaguely. It was the only way she could get the message across without babbling like she was as thick as Daisy. Then suddenly her ladyship had her hand against her neck and Sarah had to fight a gulp, with her hand in that position her ladyship was sure to feel it and would probably think she was developing a goitre and that she in fact had the most unhealthy lady's maid in England. She closed her eyes as Cora pulled the fabric away slightly and moved her fingers underneath the material.

Sarah recognised what she was doing and was glad she did or else she might have jumped out of her skin at the soft, slim digits trailing over her collarbone. She tried to breath properly but found all she could manage at the moment was ragged gasps and sighs.

_Bloody hell Sarah O'Brien, pull it together! She's sad and lonely at the moment and needs something to distract her. Just let her get on with it...Christ is she ever going to move those fingers?_

She opened her eyes to see what her ladyship was doing and immediately found herself flushing from head to foot once more, and more powerfully than she had before. Her line-of-vision, down Cora's nightdress, was one that unfortunately for Sarah confirmed that perhaps she and Thomas should consider getting little badges.

She kept her eyes half-shut and was about to tell her ladyship when the woman spoke again.

She wanted her to what? Cora was of course right, she'd not shed the material in an absurd amount of hours but it was hardly unusual for her to do so, but now her ladyship was telling her to remove it. She surely didn't mean here?

"You're probably right m'lady, just over-heated from the sun today. I'd better take it off-"

She made the mistake of opening her eyes fully, intending to look her ladyship in the eye as she made her excuses to leave but instead the candlelight was making a few particular outlines of Cora's body very obvious through the nightgown and she didn't finish her sentence.

_Somewhere else, damnit Sarah!_

"Oh my, your heart is pounding."

It was practically beating out of Sarah's chest in fact Was she really that hot? Cora thought to herself in concern, considering calling for Doctor Clarkson immediately. Her fingers slid away from Sarah's collarbone, but instead of just removing them and offering the other woman respite, they travelled deeper inside the tight black bodice to settle just above O'Brien's heart.

It occurred to Cora that perhaps she was being overly familiar. She must be making O'Brien very uncomfortable indeed, taking her temperature and feeling her pulse and the furious thump of her heart beat: she was her mistress, not her doctor and O'Brien did not want her mistress's hands all over her skin, but it was merely out of concern...wasn't it?

_Of course my heart is pounding you stupid bloody woman, you've got your hand inside my dress! Why not start undressing me while you're at it!_

She pushed away her less charitable thoughts, knowing she didn't mean them anyway. She wanted to be here and god help her she wanted her ladyship to do just that. Even if it was innocent, just to free some of her skin would make her feel so much more in control.

Sarah wondered idly if the other woman was aware of what she was doing, aware that it was _her_ causing such a flush, O'Brien had now successfully identified the source herself but she doubted Cora had, and the bloody woman really wasn't wearing much of that nightgown anymore as it had even started to slip off one shoulder. One creamy and smooth shoulder that - _For god sake Sarah! Get yourself together. The same shoulder you're touched for ten years; what makes it so special now?_

"Perhaps you should take the morning off," Cora suggested softly.

Sarah shook her head at the suggestion. It seemed a bit pointless really; she had to learn how to control her body's reactions, that was all, so prolonged contact with her ladyship would be more helpful than not. She told herself that it was sound reasoning, but knew that it was slightly grasping. Her eyes darted to Cora and she couldn't help but notice the flush that seemed to be taking over her body too. _Probably just embarrassed. The thought of tending to a maid!_

It occurred vaguely to Sarah that not one week ago she would have leapt at the possibility of a morning off and spent the rest of the night rubbing it in with the other staff, but now the thought of being away from her ladyship for even five minutes abhorred her. She knew the other woman probably wanted her space but Sarah found she couldn't physically leave her if she'd wanted to.

Cora's fingers still lingered over O'Brien's smooth skin, feeling the frantic thrum of her heart underneath, oblivious to the effect her touch was having on her lady's maid; she hadn't even realised that her own body had become so exposed in the candlelight. Cora wondered, briefly, whether a hot flush could be contagious, as she began to feel the heat creeping over her own skin, beginning in her cheeks and disappearing beneath the material of her nightdress.

The poor woman had been working so hard lately on account of her mistress's apparent inability to function. And now Robert was leaving and the world was falling apart and the baby was still dead, and Cora didn't know how she would get through any of it without the knowledge that Sarah was going to be there. For all of the leaning Cora would be almost certainly doing in the months ahead, O'Brien deserved to have one morning off at the very least, if only to recuperate from this evening. And, though O'Brien's condition was really her paramount concern, it would mean Cora could avoid both breakfast _and _lunch, and avoid her husband and children and the countless looks of pity she was certain to receive. The whole house was sure to have heard their argument; they couldn't have missed the shattering of the vase.

She didn't want O'Brien to leave though

"Perhaps we should open a window."

A window! At long last something she could do! Smiling at her ladyship Sarah agreed.

"Yes, m'lady, I think that'd be quite the help. Here let me."

Sarah tried to stand but was only too aware that her heart was beating out of her chest into Cora's hand and she found that she was rather grounded to the spot by the touch. Which was not to say she wanted it to end. Ever.

Nodding, Cora waited for O'Brien to attend to the window. And waited. And waited. A long moment passed, perhaps a minute, give or take a few seconds, and O'Brien had still not moved. Cora wondered what could possibly be preventing her from standing. Perhaps she was now feeling faint? She certainly looked peaky, and her face seemed to be frequently alternating between a distinct crimson, the colour of one of Cora's favourite gowns, and a pale white. Astonishing! She wracked her brain to think whether such a phenomenon was a symptom of some grievous, potentially fatal illness. She could think of none, but then she was no doctor.

O'Brien had refused the morning off. The relief hit her unexpectedly like a ton of bricks, as well as a tender swell of gratitude for the other woman. She really did not want to be alone right now, could not stomach the idea of being left isolated with nothing but her increasingly morbid thoughts of her foolish, foolish husband and the tragedy that she felt sure had begun to push them apart. How appropriate would it be for O'Brien to remain in Cora's chambers until morning, she wondered? About as appropriate as she and the other woman sitting closely on her bed, with her mistress' hand on her chest, she imagined. But O'Brien's gentle ministrations and the warm grip of her hand were terribly welcome in her current state of mind.

Goodness, her hand! How had she not realized that it still rested underneath O'Brien's dress? And of all places, above the woman's breast? Was it any wonder O'Brien was rooted to the spot, with her mistress' hand resting in such close proximity to an extremely intimate place on her body? She must think that she was mad! Either that, or just extremely eager to punish her husband.

Pulling her hand free, Cora was stunned by the disappointment she felt. Disappointed? Why would she be disappointed? O'Brien was her employee, her friend, a _woman_. Oh my, she really was losing her mind, if she was feeling sad that she could no longer grope her lady's maid!

Flushed and embarrassed, Cora gave O'Brien a sheepish smile. "I'll get the window, shall I?"

That was, if she could manage to work the thing. Had she ever opened a window at Downton before?

Sarah was unprepared for the sense of loss she felt when Cora removed her hand. True it had been causing her trouble and over-heating her but the feeling of such soft skin against her own was wonderful, even if her ladyship had only been doing it out of politeness. Then again, her ladyship had left it there rather a long time and long after she had ascertained that Sarah's heart was beating faster by the moment. Maybe...but no! It was ridiculous.

Cora slid off the bed before Sarah could make any move at all and was heading to the window. The little part of her that was half-Thomas wanted to laugh at the very idea of Lady Grantham attempting anything like this for herself but the part of her that was burning with some indefinable emotion for Cora wanted to leap to her feet and perform the chore for herself.

"It's very kind of you m'lady."

Sarah smiled to herself and nearly felt herself giving in to tears. It was completely ridiculous of course but she couldn't remember a single instance in her whole life when somebody had done something for her willingly. Some of the lower down staff brought her a cup of tea once in a while and Thomas sometimes gave her a cigarette but no one had ever...It seemed so ridiculous. Silhouetted in the moonlight her ladyship looked unreal.

Sarah blinked her eyes again, trying to rid herself of the image, trying to break this spell that Cora had somehow cast on her purely by touching her knee, her throat, her chest and saying a few kind words to her. She wanted desperately to at least unbutton the top of her dress, she was still red hot underneath the material however she feared that the flush on her skin would be a give-away and Cora would send her away, never to darken her doorstep again. She couldn't let that happen, could not let the other woman know that she was the cause of this heat, or else she wouldn't be allowed to sit with her ladyship like this and that was a thought that tore through her heart.

"Would you like me to leave you soon m'lady? Only I don't like to think of you being all alone here...sorry m'lady, it's not my place to..." She was babbling again and she knew it but Cora didn't seem to mind and she was still at the window.

Cora was momentarily not listening.

Now, how did this contraption work again? Reaching up to grasp the…thing _(very articulate, Cora) _she attempted to pull it. To no avail. Squinting, she attempted to wiggle the…clasp? Goodness, this was embarrassing. Forty-six years old, and she couldn't open a window?

Sneaking a look back at O'Brien, a plaintive expression ready on her face, she found herself suddenly frozen. Her collar slightly loose and her hair a tad mussed, O'Brien looked altogether more…well, peaceful was a word that came to mind. And _beautiful_. Cora had never thought of Sarah in that way before. She had never touched her breast before either, or any of her servants' breasts for that matter, but still; for the first time in their ten year relationship, Cora Crawley, Countess of Grantham, thought of Sarah O'Brien as beautiful.

Whatever she had planned to say, however she had planned to beg for help, went out of the very window she was stood before.

_Cora Crawley, what are you doing? _she wanted to scream. This was a mid-life crisis; it had to be. How else could she explain looking at her lady's maid in…'that way'. She was a woman, a _married_ woman who had never found herself attracted to another woman before. A little voice in the back of her mind reminded her that _that_ was not strictly true but the idea of her feeling that way about _O'Brien, _of all people, was utterly inconceivable and scandalous, potentially ruinous, at the very least. If Robert ever found out…

Gulping, sure that O'Brien was able to either see or sense her mortification, certain the truth of her dilemma was written all of her face, she offered the woman a crooked smile. "You must think me an invalid," she murmured, referring to the window which she had swiftly given up on opening. "I promise you O'Brien, there are some things that I _can_do for myself."

Registering O'Brien's question, she heard herself silently pleading for the other woman not to leave, though under the circumstances, it might just be the most responsible idea either of them had had all night.

Sarah reached up to wipe her brow and became aware that the heat and toil of the day had left her hair in a state of disarray. The curls were falling drastically and the back was becoming looser every time she moved. She knew it had been a mistake to take those pins out earlier, but they were pinching and she didn't think she'd be back with her ladyship so soon.

Cora had spoken again...Sarah smiled. She knew that there were indeed probably things that Cora could manage for herself but she couldn't think of anything off the top of her head. She gave her collar one last tug in a final attempt to get some air on her skin - it was unsuccessful - before she used all her strength to stand and follow her ladyship to the window.

"Let me m'lady. I should 'ave done it in the first place."

Cora had clearly disregarded her question then. She must want her to leave but Sarah was determined she would not go until she was asked to - normally she would not do anything quite so impertinent but tonight she wanted her ladyship's company like never before.

She reached for the clasp and lifted it out of place before pushing against the window pane that yielded to her touch and opened, allowing the cool night air inside the room at long last. She removed her hand and immediately spotted the outline of her fingers and palm on the glass - how bloody embarrassing! - but she found she couldn't care too much and instead pushed her body closer to the window, the frame digging into her stomach slightly as she half-leant out, breathing the air deeply.

Outwardly she felt slightly cooler but she was still burning inside.

Still reeling from her realization, Cora observed O'Brien as she tended to the window that Cora had found so difficult to operate. She could not help but smile to herself, the other woman's hair now in complete disarray, plastered to her face from the heat. O'Brien was always so professional, so together. At this moment in time, that could not be any further from the truth. It was comforting somewhat...If Cora was falling to pieces, at least O'Brien was a mess too.

Oh, dear. Moving to aid her in opening the window had only made things worse. O'Brien was now close enough for Cora to detect the light fragrance of her skin and though they were no longer touching, Cora could swear she felt the heat of her skin. She couldn't understand where these feelings had originated. They had had a thoroughly uncomplicated relationship only this morning! O'Brien had dressed her, brushed and pinned up her hair, fixed her stockings, served her breakfast...it had been simple, undemanding.

But then Robert had announced the war, and everything had fallen to pieces. Robert and O'Brien had been all she had, her only true constants, until Robert had declared his intention to leave her for a war he had no business being involved in. That left just her and O'Brien.

"O'Brien-" Cora began. She suddenly broke off. What was she supposed to say? Please could you leave, because I seem to have developed a rather strange wealth of feelings for you ... of the physical variety...and I am concerned that I may do something to add further injury to my marriage?

It had to be a mid-life crisis, and she would not indulge these feelings of utter insanity.

Cora looked more than distinctly ruffled and Sarah didn't understand it at all. It was impossible, surely, that her ladyship might be experiencing similarly unexpected feelings wasn't it? She was the Countess of Grantham for god sake and the woman had been happily married for over twenty years - god, she should know, she'd witnessed half of those years herself!

_But she's not so happily married tonight is she? Fuming at a husband who's daft enough to think of leaving her, and no company but her lady's maid..._

Sarah watched her ladyship's eyes dart up to her hair and something seemed to be amusing her. She reached up and became immediately aware that she was rapidly falling apart. She laughed at herself and, thinking she might as well be hung for a sheep as for lamb, removed one of two more pins, letting more hair loose and easing the tension on the back of her head.

Her ladyship seemed to be showing no sign of dismissing her but she did seem to be unsure over something. Had she done something wrong? She'd been by Cora's side all day, perhaps the other woman was sick of the sight of her? Certainly anybody below stairs who'd had Sarah's company inflicted on them for that amount of time would have resigned by now but Cora seemed to want her here. Didn't she?

The woman started to speak but stopped herself. Ah...they were back to O'Brien then. She'd thought her ladyship's use of 'Sarah' wouldn't last too long. Cora looked distinctly worried about something that Sarah couldn't comprehend at all. She reached out to Cora, placing a hand on her shoulder (the exposed one - _For god sake Sarah, you're not making things any easier for yourself_) and locking eyes with Cora.

"Is everything alright m'lady? Can I do anything for you at all?"

_Oh, O'Brien. There are so many things I wish that you could do for me._

She hadn't intended the thought to sound so_ provocative_, but there was no doubt that it did and she couldn't help but blush. Cora was certain that her cheeks were scarlet by now, and O'Brien _must _have noticed; she'd hoped to dismiss these feelings as easily as she might have dismissed O'Brien if she chose to, and she knew she probably should. But she was so angry with Robert, so utterly lost and disappointed in the man who, for twenty six years, had been the other half of her goddamn soul that she was entirely capable of doing something incredibly stupid right now.

They were so close, practically hanging together out of the window. All that needed to happen was for Cora to lean forward ever so slightly and things would irrevocably change. Was she really that angry with Robert? Was she really that foolish?

_"Perhaps my desire to leave would not be so great if you were the wife and _mother _you should have been all along!"_

And now O'Brien's hand was resting on her shoulder, her bare shoulder (when had that happened?), and Cora, god help her, could feel herself begin to lean in…


	5. Perilously Close

For a moment, a split second when the world stopped and her heart reached fever pitch, Sarah thought it was just her imagination. Then in a moment of clarity it occurred to her that Cora had been reaching out to her all night whether she knew it or not and suddenly everything seemed slower, but there was a certain peace running through Sarah's body that completely contrasted with the squirming feeling she'd had for most of the night.

The Countess was definitely leaning in, ever so slightly, and Sarah was close enough to feel every movement Cora made; she could practically hear her heart beating and she could certainly see her breathing heavily. There were either two options then...either her ladyship was completely unaware of what she was doing, unaware that such things happened between people who weren't happily married and of the appropriate genders, or...or what? Cora wanted her too? Impossible surely?

Sarah kept her eyes locked on her ladyship's, wishing desperately that she could see what the other woman was thinking, just for a moment. Cora looked scared, conflicted but...was there some kind of assent there too? O'Brien wasn't even aware that she had been asking a question, wordlessly or otherwise, but it seemed she had an answer of sorts.

If it went wrong Sarah knew she would regret her next action for the rest of her life but there was an unstoppable compulsion within her that meant she was powerless to reason. With one had still on Cora's shoulder she used the other to catch Cora's wrist and lift the Countess' soft hand up to her own cheek, recreating her ladyship's touch from earlier, (Cora made no objection) before allowing her own fingers to ghost along Cora's jawline, whilst her thumb grazed over the smoothest cheek she had ever felt.

This was wrong, so wrong. Every sane, rational inch of Cora screamed out in warning. Stop now, before it's too late, please. But all she could feel was the other woman's flesh, marvelling at the contrast between their hands; her own skin soft and supple, O'Brien's calloused and rough. She suppressed a shiver as O'Brien's thumb brushed over her cheek. Their lips so close, that if she simply leaned a centimetre closer …

Cora was the Countess. Cora was the wife. She was the one who should know better, not Sarah. Sarah again, not O'Brien. She couldn't be O'Brien when their bodies were pressed so close, and their breathing in tandem. If Cora let this happen…let what happen exactly? What was really happening here?

_Don't be a fool, Cora, you know exactly what's happenin_g. She was far from naïve, raised in a country with different rules and expectations…different possibilities. And the notion of infidelity, of being unfaithful to one's spouse had practically spread from her birth country like a rabid disease. No, Cora was no fool. She had leaned in for a reason.

What did O'Brien expect from her? If in fact she expected anything. Cora was a married woman, in love with her husband. If Robert hadn't fought her, if he hadn't said those things, if he wasn't leaving… Well, O'Brien would not be standing here right now, and Cora's lips would not be hovering painfully close to hers. Cora's expectations, her intentions, were far clearer. She needed to feel loved, needed to feel something other than the crippling pain she had been carrying on her shoulders since she had slipped and landed on the cold hard bathroom floor and lost the boy. But O'Brien? Cora truly didn't know.

It suddenly struck her then, the reason for Sarah's strange behaviour this eve, for the heat in her body and the flushing of her skin. It was because of her?

She made up her mind.

"It occurs to me," Cora said finally, her voice little more than a breathless whisper, "that both you and I seem to want the same thing." She may as well be bold; start as she meant to go on. She brushed her soft thumb over the other woman's cheekbone, taking a baby step closer. "But it isn't enough for me to suspect. I simply cannot risk my position, my marriage…everything I have on a misunderstanding. I need to know what it is you want, Sarah."

What she wanted...what _did _she want? She wanted to be rid of this ache in her chest. She wanted to get rid of this horribly suffocating dress. She wanted Cora to be happy most of all, but she knew she'd be happiest if his lordship were to apologise and come to her bed. Wouldn't she?

Most of all, Sarah wanted to damn well throw this woman onto the bed and get rid of both her frustration from tonight and ten years of apparently untapped yearning. She wasn't sure if she'd always wanted her but she supposed she must have done on some level.

But those words...They were not the same words that Sarah had heard in her youth from young men, even ones that did have something to lose. Neither were they the words of a woman looking for a quick bunk up before bed.

The thought overwhelmed her. Her skin burnt hotter than ever and she could feel Cora's doing the same. She'd have to be mad to reject her. As mad as...well his lordship apparently.

Sarah pushed the other man from her mind. For over twenty years he'd had this woman and now he was considering leaving her? Bloody idiot deserved to be ousted from the bed!

Slowly she trailed her fingers from her ladyship's shoulder across her collarbone until they met with the lowered neckline of her nightgown, whilst the other hand gently gripped the back of a slender neck and pulled her closer with her hand and the material until finally their lips met. The first kiss was almost chaste but slow and lingering, like nothing Sarah had ever felt before. She only hoped that this answered Cora's question.

Cora now, without a shadow of a doubt, knew what it was that Sarah wanted. She sought no power, no leverage - though if she did, she, in this one achingly simple kiss, had enough to blackmail the Crawley's all the way to the grave and back - nothing but her. As much or as little as she could give of herself. Releasing a breath Cora surrendered herself to Sarah; consequences be damned.

A part of her, and admittedly it was a sizable portion, screamed for them to stop, even as the rest of her gripped O'Brien's cheek to pull her closer and instinctively deepen the kiss. She ignored it. Her heart pounded in an almost unbearable rhythm underneath Sarah's hand, her skin scorched by the other woman's touch and the fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake. How could Robert leave her, after twenty-six years of marriage, when this woman had only known her ten and was willing to follow her to hell and back?

Gathering her closer Cora's hands slid slowly over O'Brien's back, cursing the fabric that lay between her touch and Sarah's bare flesh. Sliding higher, her fingers contented themselves momentarily, by tangling delicately in the other woman's thick curls. So unexpectedly soft, silky to the touch. For O'Brien, such a description was curiously apt.

God it felt so wonderful to be touched like this. Sarah felt the fingers gliding through her hair and mirrored the movement herself, twisting Cora's soft curls around her fingers, all the while her other hand trailing first along the other woman's collarbone, grazing it lightly with her short nails whilst ghosting ever lower. She stopped her hand at the top of the gown though. She had made her intentions clear to Cora, but it was up to the other woman to decide how far this would go.

For herself Sarah was quite happy to give as much or as little as Cora needed. If she was only after a brief embrace, a kiss to cleanse her of his lordship's harsh words then Sarah was happy to oblige. If, and god help her, she thought, it was an alternative she much preferred herself, if Cora wanted her in every sense of the word than Sarah knew she would fully enjoy lavishing attention on the other woman (_'No great difference there then - and to think it used to bother me_') and letting her know that she was loved by someone this night even if it wasn't her idiot husband.

She deepened the kiss, hoping to prompt her ladyship into action, pulling the other woman closer to her and gripping on for dear life. She made circles on soft skin with her thumb and moved her other hand from Cora's shoulder to wrap it around her waist, feeling the tantalising outline of a breast against her arm.

When Cora wrapped her arms around her too she felt a thrill course through her body, her body that was still too damned stifled in her heavy dress. That her ladyship seemed to want this as much as she did was startling. She was just an unmarried servant, she could look as much as she pleased and really, she was unlikely to lose her place after such an incident. On the other hand from Cora's perspective this was the biggest risk she had taken in her life. Sarah felt a surge of affection for the woman who was willing to risk so much for her.

She slid her hand across the begowned part of Cora's back until she came to hot, bare skin. The muscles of Cora's back were contracting underneath her palm and the thought of running her hand freely across the smooth terrain was nearly as intoxicating as the feelings and smell of perfume that was invading her senses utterly.

She needed to be rid of this dress but she wouldn't push anything until her ladyship was ready for whatever it was they were going to do together.

_Cora, what are you doing?_

She was risking everything she had, everything, on a fleeting passion for a lady's maid. Cora could not deny how good it felt, could certainly not deny the passion surging through her at Sarah's touch and the glorious ache in a certain part of her body. Cora would have never imagined it could so excruciatingly right, to touch another woman in such a way, and O'Brien for that matter. And dear god, her fingers…another inch lower, and Cora would be utterly lost.

But it was absolutely wrong, and she could not let herself do this. Not to Robert, not to her children, not to Downton. Not to Sarah, even. After everything she had done, after all of the love she had shown her, she deserved far more than a confused tumble in her silken sheets which Cora would surely regret by morning.

She couldn't seem to stop though. No matter how loud her head screamed for her to put an end to such madness, she only gripped Sarah closer. Cora's hands roamed eagerly over the other woman's back, desperately seeking a clasp, a tie of some kind, some kind of contraption which would release Sarah's body from this goddamn dress! She felt as if she had gone temporarily insane, unable to think, unable to reason, feeling nothing but Sarah's lips moving passionately over hers and her hand sliding over bare, hot flesh.

It had never been this way with Robert. They had never melted into one another with such maddening passion. Their wedding night had been tender but restrained. He'd moved above her with all the timidity of a mouse, focused so solely on producing an heir that he had barely found time to loosen her nightgown and discover the delights beneath. Later, he had taken more time, loosening her corset inch by inch, taking in the sight of her bare breasts with the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas Day. They loved one another ardently, and the prospect of losing Robert to the war…dear lord, she would rather die herself. But although they had not lacked for desire, they had never come together like this. They had come together for love, not passion, and Cora desperately craved passion.

"I know I assured you I am able to do some things for myself, but this," Cora pulled at Sarah's gown in frustration, speaking breathlessly, her heart pounding furiously, "-this I cannot do."

_Sarah O'Brien, you should stop this immediately! _

She knew that Cora was desperately lonely, or else why would she be doing something as unbecoming as seducing a maid? But in the moment that soft, slim digits wrapped in her hair she didn't care for any consequences whatsoever. She _did_ on the other hand have an urge to undress Cora immediately. She smiled around the kiss, wondering how quickly she could manage it tonight but that did seem a tad unfair when she was _still. In. This. Bloody. Dress!_

The little voice in the back of her head that sounded like Elsie Hughes practically screamed at her to stop. Told her that whilst she might enjoy being thoroughly intoxicated herself, Cora was unlikely to feel quite the same way in the morning and that anything that happened tonight was sure to damage their working relationship irrevocably. She slid her hand slightly under Cora's gown, resting over her heart and imitating the Countess' earlier actions, and she was just entertaining the notion of taking her fingers on a slow creeping descent downwards, when Cora pulled away.

The kiss was broken and for a moment Sarah felt lost and unsure but Cora's hands were still roaming all over her and then she spoke. Sarah, unable to stop herself, smiled let out a small laugh, half from relief. She gently took the other woman's hands and led them to the buttons at the front of her dress before leaning in and softly kissing Cora once more.

She left enough space between them for Cora's hands to move, although they still seemed to be having trouble accomplishing their task with any speed, and slowly trailed kisses across the other woman's jawline. She reached one hand back into Cora' hair and followed the hot, flushed trail with her swollen lips until she came to a spot below her ear that she herself had accidentally brushed over some years ago that had caused her employer to jump out of her seat. She only hoped the reaction would be favourable today.

Dear lord, Sarah had found the spot. Well of course she had; Sarah had been the one to discover it, albeit accidentally, one evening after dinner as she dragged a brush through her hair. Sarah obviously remembered the incident, and if she didn't, Cora's reaction was sure to be a dead giveaway. Biting down sharply on her lip served only to simply muffle the fevered moan, not restrain it, and she virtually jumped from the other woman's arms. Although the spot had not been neglected since its discovery - Cora had wasted no time in directing Robert's eager lips to it that night, after pouncing at him in a state of lustful abandon - it had never been lavished with such attention or such skill. She was practically a puddle in Sarah's arms.

It didn't seem fair, Cora thought to herself, as her fingers fiddled blindly with the buttons holding Sarah's dress together, that whilst she had never seen the other woman naked before, Sarah saw her disrobed literally every single day. Although Cora was not a vain woman - well, not overly vain - it seemed somewhat anticlimactic that there would be no surprise, no stunned admiration, no wide-eyed awe as Sarah took in her mistress' undressed form. It was not about vanity, it was about self-confidence, and Cora's had taken a recent hammering that went beyond a few simple cross words from her husband.

Managing to free a number of the tiny buttons on Sarah's dress, Cora felt a sense of triumph which was swiftly followed by a flush of even greater desire as the other woman's flesh became slowly exposed, inch by inch, her fingers brushing over the swells of her breasts. She felt Sarah take in a breath at the touch, and felt incredibly humbled that she could provoke such pleasure in the other woman. Cora marveled at the feel of the soft, hot flesh under her fingers, and began attacking the buttons with a renewed eagerness that had everything to do with wanting to feel even more of that luscious flesh cupped in the palms of her hand.

Sarah hadn't intended to linger there quite so long but the noises Cora made were getting better and better with every minute increase in pressure that she added to the spot. Every muffled moan sent a jolt through her entire body and she was determined to keep Cora in this state for as long as possible. She strained her memory - for the moment she didn't need to concentrate, only add her tongue to the pressure of her lips on Cora's neck - trying to recall anything else that would help her.

Sarah knew she had to distract her mind from her ladyship's fingers, they were gathering pace over her buttons and sliding inside her open dress, before she completely lost control of her senses. She wondered vaguely whether Cora would notice that the chemise she was wearing was one of her own that she had passed on last year. She very seriously doubted it but the contrast between her austere dress and intricately embroidered chemise never failed to astonish her when she got undressed.

The answer came to her suddenly, the best way to make Cora turn to putty in her hands, and her lips formed into a smirk of anticipation. Still with one hand firmly in Cora's hair, holding her in place and exposing her neck, she easily pulled at the nightgown until it slid over unresisting shoulders and she could slowly drag it down Cora's arms until it bunched around her middle, eventually leaving the Countess exposed from the stomach up.

She had seen this body so many times that one would have thought the novelty had worn off but Sarah found herself moaning lightly against Cora's neck at the thought: in the past she had approached the smooth, flat (_'too flat - stop! She needs to forget about that...don't think about it_') stomach, the soft shoulders and creamy, sculpted breasts with complete detachment but now they were all hers to lavish as much attention on as she pleased.

She gave a jolt when she felt her own skin brushed over once more. Cora's nimble fingers were getting her distinctly ruffled but she was not to be outdone just yet.

She slid her arm around the Countess' naked back and, slowly tracing down the groove of her spine, eventually found the spot half-way down that never failed to make Cora purr in the bath when she washed her. And Christ! How innocent all that seemed now!

Oh god, but this woman knew Cora so well. The spot on her neck, the muscle in her back…she would not be surprised if Sarah had a hundred more surprises up her sleeve and even if Lord Grantham himself came bursting through the doors, Cora would not be able to detach herself from Sarah's reverent hands and worshipping tongue. She supposed it was only natural, to know somebody so well after ten years of unwavering service. Cora knew virtually nothing about Sarah, but she was so looking forward to finding out more.

Every inch of her body, every nerve was alight, desire blazing through her blood like wildfire. Her heart pounded in her breast, the very same breast that Cora was so eager for Sarah to lavish her attention on, and she began to speed up, her fingers working furiously to rid the woman of her troublesome gown. Perhaps she would need to speak to Mrs Hughes about another uniform with easier access to the delights beneath? Cora purred as Sarah's fingers caressed her back_, actually purred_, a sound that she could not remember Robert extracting from her lips in all their twenty-six years as husband and wife.

_Stop thinking about Robert!_

With her nightgown bunched around her waist, her breasts exposed and practically begging to be touched, the last thing she wanted was to think of her husband. It would be so easy to block it out, the image of Robert's face and the crippling guilt she knew she could push aside _now_, but would come rushing back to her in the morning. When Sarah left her alone.

Is this really what she wanted? One night of passion resulting in a lifetime of guilt and the likely destruction of a fledgling friendship between a Countess and her lady's maid? Cora could not pretend that this would not change her relationship with Sarah irrevocably, and she also couldn't guarantee Robert would never discover the affair. Was this really a risk worth taking, for either of them?

Her hands faltered on Sarah's gown as they reached the delicate trim of the chemise she knew had once been hers. Her fingers caressed the subtle beading at the hem and felt a wave of tenderness for the other woman, as well as a stab of guilt for what she was about to do.

"Sarah." Cora's voice was strained, breathless. "I don't think I can do this."

She wanted desperately to pretend she had not heard the words. Grudgingly she removed her lips from Cora's neck but refused point blank to withdraw her hands until Cora forcibly pushed her away. If indeed she was going to. A small part of Sarah hoped to god that this sudden reluctance was temporary. There was still a great deal of skin that her hands and mouth were burning to explore.

She took in Cora's appearance and was silently pleased to see the state of disarray she had managed to impose on her employer. Her hair was curling wildly about her shoulders, her eyes were wide and dark with lust, her lips parted and swollen and so red that the flush across her body seemed to stem from them. Sarah allowed herself to drink in the smooth skin before her, raking her eyes hungrily over the swell of her breast, the dip at her waist and the curve of her hip. She knew that with the lightest touch to the material the precariously resting nightgown would pool to the floor.

Sarah made up her mind there and then that no matter the circumstance, she would never, ever abandon this woman. Even if Lord Grantham himself came into the room at this moment she would not move her hands from their resting place in Cora's soft hair and her terribly sensitive back. She placed a brief, gentle kiss on Cora's unresisting lips.

"I'm not going to force you m'lady. I thought you wanted...thought you wanted me..."

She trailed off, unable to express how constricted her heart felt. She wished that she were as beautiful as Cora; perhaps if she was then the other woman would be as lost as she was. She needed to show her how much she cared. After everything that had happened, the war, the baby...she needed to prove to Cora how sorry she was, how much of herself she was willing to give.

"If you'd prefer us never to mention this again then I'll keep quiet."

Cora seemed frozen before her and Sarah wished she knew what to say to reassure her mistress. But what? She could hardly proclaim her undying love without sounding false. Neither could she put it too crudely or else she might come over too forward. But really? Could she come across more forward than she was at the moment? She moved her hand from Cora's back, moving it gently, tentatively, ever-so-slowly to rest her palm against her breast. She dragged her thumb (and for once she was glad about the rough callouses on her digits) across a hard peak gently. She leaned in, unnecessarily as they were so close, and whispered as huskily as she could manage.

"I can keep a secret forever."

Oh god, if only she hadn't done that this would all be so much easier. Instead, Cora closed her eyes, drawing in a sharp breath as a thunderbolt of lust ricocheted through her. Thoughts of Robert began to fade as desire infused her once more, and her fingers twitched against the hem of Sarah's chemise, clearly caught between retreating and moving lower still, pulling the material free and letting herself love the other woman, irrespective of consequences or regrets.

Cora was leaning towards to the latter, to giving in to the unbearable need and satisfying the desperate ache that pulsated deep in her groin. It would be so easy to take that route, to say damn it all and crush her lips against Sarah's, but it would still be wrong. Sarah would never tell, even if she threw her onto the silken sheets and had her wicked way, and fired her come morning … she would still keep Cora's secret to the grave. But that was not the point.

"I know that," Cora finally whispered. Her shoulders slumping, and sadness flickering in her eyes, it was clear which choice she had made. "But I am not sure that I can. And I don't want to."

She loved Robert, after all.

Her hand pulled free of Sarah's chest, her palm immediately cold, yearning to still be pressed against the warm, supple flesh. Instead, she raised it to the woman's cheek, cupping it in tender regret. "I'm sorry Sarah, but I cannot go through with this."

For a moment Sarah simply stood in shock. Surely, after all this Cora would not just dismiss her so completely. She wanted to kiss her again, convince her that this was right, they both knew that Cora wanted this as much as she did. Didn't they?

She removed her hands. She wanted so much to touch her all night but she would not be the one to push. She would not beg. She tried to speak but knew anything she said would sound pathetic in her current state. There was no use denying that she wanted this more than anything, nor was there any point pushing Cora - she would _not _beg.

She turned away from Cora; she couldn't stand to look at her and wished to god that the other woman would cover herself. She snorted humourlessly - she probably wasn't capable of re-dressing herself. Sarah made quick work of doing up her buttons, she needed to get away now. She put her walls back up - she needed them at the moment. Anger snapped inside her. How dare she! How _dare _she do this to her!

She became the woman that the staff knew. The one that Cora had never seen before in ten years of yes m'lady, no m'lady. Her voice was harsh - it was the only way to stop herself from crying. "You should be more careful in future. I won't say anything o' course, but with anybody else...? You're sailing perilously close to the wind m'lady."

She wondered if Cora would remember saying those exact words to her. She hoped so. Even one minute ago she would not have conceived of hurting Cora for anything in the world but now? Well now she had the finest possible blackmail material. She knew in her heart that she would never, ever use it, but that was not to say that Cora knew it too. She wanted to hurt her.

_Haven't you hurt her enough Sarah? This is the punishment you were expecti_ng...

She turned to look at Cora once more, aware that her nudity might be her undoing but determined to remain in control from now on.

Cora stood frozen, stunned and naked, too staggered to even begin to formulate a response or attempt to cover her bare breasts. Hurt etched on her face as Sarah's words cut deep. It was not so much the silent threat. Cora knew, without a shadow of doubt, that she had nothing to fear from Sarah. It was the bitter implication, the harsh rasping tone of the other woman's voice; _with anybody else? _Did Sarah really think that little of her to presume she was just a notch on her bedpost? A Countess' plaything she'd toss aside at a sudden whim?

What had just happened between them, how close they had come to giving in completely…it had not been a small thing. Though Cora had put an end to it, the passion that had transpired was more than enough to jeopardise all that she had and loved. She had risked that for Sarah, had risked everything to feel the other woman's touch and touch her in return, because she had _wanted_to. She still wanted to - oh god, she would like nothing more than to strip Sarah bare and pin her down to the bed and love her and be loved shamelessly in return - but she couldn't.

_You're sailing perilously close to the wind._

Cora knew she should berate Sarah for her audacity, for having the temerity to speak to her employer in such a way. She was still Lady Grantham after all, and Sarah, despite what had so nearly happened between them, was still her lady's maid. Had she been thinking clearly, she would have been dismissed from the room immediately. But Cora wasn't thinking clearly. Her heart was still racing as if it would explode in her chest, and her body…it was still alive from the worshipful exploration of Sarah's hands.

Her eyes stung with tears at those painfully familiar words, and Cora sucked in a quiet little breath. Slowly, her face unguarded and achingly vulnerable, she slid her hands to the bodice of her nightdress and dragged it up her naked body. Securing the gown on her shoulders, her breasts now hidden underneath the material, she began piecing herself back together _mentally _and attempting to regain control of the situation, which was difficult given how she must look right now, tousled and bedraggled, her lips surely swollen from their kisses.

"I'm sorry," Cora repeated again, trying desperately hard to keep her voice steady. "It is not that I don't…appreciate your help, O'Brien."

_O'Brien. _She was already back to that, was she? What a mess she'd made of everything. The baby was dead, Robert was leaving, and the last person she trusted, perhaps the woman she trusted most of all, was looking at her like she might leave too. And who could blame her?

"I'm just very sorry," she settled, wearily. Genuinely. She didn't know what else to say.

Sarah felt something snap inside her at the other woman's speech. Frustration overtook anger as the dominant emotion raging through her body - moments before it had been lust but she forcefully suppressed that, not altogether successfully.

"Stop. Being. Sorry."

The strength of her words surprised even her and she only hoped Cora realised that she was as angry with herself as with her employer.

"I don't want your apologies."

The wavering of her voice gave her away, but she it didn't take away from the truth of her words. She didn't want apologies - she just wanted her. Still. And she hated it so very much. This burning in her heart was making her ache - her entire body was throbbing for Cora and she knew that there would be no relief now.

The other woman's teary eyes moved her more than she cared to think about and she involuntarily took a few steps back towards Cora, her hands clenched hopelessly at her sides. She wanted to make her feel better, cleanse away her own harsh words with kisses and utterly worship this antagonising woman, touch her until she broke and let Sarah put her back together again with her desire. She wanted to make her understand how much it would mean.

It occurred to her, in the dark part of her brain that was half-Thomas, that maybe this wasn't the end. She could play the long game, carry on being there for Cora; Lord Grantham was going away, this war would not be short and Lady Grantham...well she had shown tonight that she had needs.

She felt the simmer of anger abate but some disgust rose up within her. Who was she to think like this? To play with Cora's emotions, because in her lust-addled brain, Cora had played with hers?

"I'm sorry." She barely whispered it, but she felt it and hoped Cora did too.

Cora's heart ached as Sarah took a few steps towards her. For a second, just for a second, Cora had thought that Sarah was going to kiss her again. If she had…Cora didn't think that she would have had the strength to resist again, and she almost breathed in a sigh of relief that she had not had to _try_. She was just so tired, and so close to throwing caution terminally to the wind.

Cora raised a trembling hand and pressed it slowly against Sarah's cheek. "I will not regret this night, I will look back on the memory in fondness," she whispered. And it was true. Although she'd nearly lost herself in Sarah's embrace, she had regained a little piece of herself she had thought to have been shattered by Robert's careless words and actions.

Cora mentally debated the idea of kissing Sarah once more, if only to show her that she did care and that she hoped nothing would change between them as a result of her lack of control. She hoped that it wouldn't. This afternoon, their discussion after the garden party, the connection they had made and gently nurtured, it had filled Cora with a sense of peace and normality she so desperately wished to hold onto.

"I am only sorry if I've have hurt you. I-" She what?

"You're a true friend, Sarah and I hope that you will remain so. You have nothing to apologise for."

_Oh my lady, if only you knew._

The long game then, Sarah thought. If this woman insisted on touching her now, like that, after she had refused her kisses then she was _sorely _mistaken about Sarah's character. She would not push now, not push at all really. But Cora would fall eventually. She knew it in her heart. Or was it just wishful thinking?

She considered kissing her once more. She had herself half-convinced that with just one more kiss she could show Cora that all she wanted was to make her whole. She wanted nothing for herself, not really - oh that wasn't to say that she had no intention of enjoying every second - but she supposed it was a maid's prerogative to be more concerned for her lady's pleasure than her own.

Everything had changed now. There was no going back from this. Sarah thought that if it simply had been a matter of exploitation then it would have been better - if Cora had been simply seeking a release and had had her maid tend to her needs then she wouldn't feel like this. But Cora had wanted her. _Her_. Not just the comfort and pleasure but the kind that only she could offer. The regret burnt through her, nearly as strong as the remaining lustful ardour.

At the last moment Sarah leaned in, not really intending to kiss Cora as she had done earlier, but purposefully caught the side of her mouth before quickly darting away with a mumbled goodnight. Once outside she took a deep breath and fairly slumped against the door frame, unable to control the rush of emotions overtaking her. She all but ran to the nearest door to the servant's stairs and bolted up them, desperate to put as much distance between her and Cora as possible.

It occurred to her, when she finally reached her own bedroom - and god how much cooler this one was than Cora's - that when she had leaned in, Cora hadn't turned her head away as she had half-thought she might.

It all confused her. Half of the night made her giddy with glee whilst the rest of it made her unfathomably sad. She reached under her bed and recovered the bottle of brandy that she had fastidiously hidden from Mrs Hughes.

She drank deeply.


	6. What's So Wrong

Unbeknownst to O'Brien, Thomas had now been watching her for a full twenty minutes with varying degrees of amusement and, god help him, concern. She had that funny look on her face, the kind she'd worn for a full week after her ladyship had lost the baby: the slapped by a wet fish look, he'd named it.

She'd been wandering round like a ghost all morning, only to plead illness Hughes had demanded she take her ladyship's tray upstairs. _That _one Thomas found interesting. She was practically attached to her ladyship's hip as of late, ever since she'd lost the bloody baby. She'd not been half as much fun since. Yet another reason to be glad to be off. But Sarah O'Brien was never ill; she was like a bloody ox. So why didn't she want to take up her Majesty's breakfast? After last night's little incident (rumour had it that Lady G had first cursed, and then tried to hit his lordship in the head with a priceless vase. If it was true, Thomas might just have found a new respect for the woman), Thomas would have expected O'Brien to go crawling up the stairs, hands and knees, balancing the bleedin' tray on her head. But instead, she'd pretended to be sick and was now stinkin' up the servant's dining room with her bloody foul mood.

"So, what's up with you and 'er ladyship then?" he asked bluntly, giving up the pretence of polishing the silver. It wasn't like he cared about appearances anyway. He didn't even want to be here. Was only here whilst waiting for his summons to come through, and then he'd be long gone from this miserable place and it's miserable people and all the bloody awful memories.

Sarah could feel his eyes on her. It was odd; so many years spent being a servant, basically being part of the background as far as any of her employers were concerned, and, in the space of one day, her ladyship had beyond all shadow of doubt noticed her presence and Thomas, perhaps the most apathetic person she'd ever known was staring. She only hoped to god the two reasons weren't connected.

She knew she was being cowardly; at the moment she could still do the right thing and take the tray herself, but she had already said she was sick and the moment the bell rang she had every intention of palming the job off to the nearest person, who at the moment happened to be Thomas. She almost spared a laugh at the thought of her ladyship sat in bed in all her finery, trying to remain proper, whilst Thomas hid his smirk and served her. A bitter part of her brain wondered if Cora would take the opportunity to add another servant to her bedpost but she pushed it away, knowing it was just her spite.

She was really quite surprised that Mrs Hughes had believed her claim of illness, goodness knows the other woman hadn't believed a bloody thing she'd said in the ten years she'd been here, prejudiced old cow! After she'd risen to her position of Housekeeper she'd been able to see Sarah's resume and had labelled her former superior trouble the moment she found out she was from the Orphanage. But Cora had never wavered in her satisfaction with Sarah's work so the old woman had to lump it.

She nearly jumped out of her seat when Thomas spoke and immediately became defensive when his words had registered.

"Why would anything be 'up' between me an' her? I'm just ill, there's nothin' else to say!"

Damn, she thought, that was perhaps a bit too vehement.

Well, well, well. Someone was _awfully _defensive. Which meant whatever had happened between O'Brien and her ladyship would be well worth knowing. Thomas took another long second to scrutinize the look on the woman's face. She looked distant, lost, like somebody had stabbed her favourite puppy (not that she'd ever have a puppy; O'Brien didn't do cute and cuddly). In fact, Thomas might even go as far to say that O'Brien was … what, heartbroken?

Something had definitely happened. He'd stake his life on it. In fact, if it hadn't, he'd happily remain at Downton for all of his natural life with all of these cretins. Maybe Lady G had sacked her? Thomas wouldn't be surprised. It'd be easier for her Majesty to blame O'Brien for the baby, wouldn't it? Rather than rightly blaming herself. She was the silly beggar who had slipped, O'Brien hadn't pushed her.

_…Had she?_

She'd taken the miscarriage pretty hard. She'd even been more respectful of Elsie Hughes lately. Something was definitely off and after her manner last night, it certainly involved Lady Grantham.

"Y'know, that excuse would work if I was some sort of imbecile like Daisy or William, but I know you better than that, you lying cow. So c'mon, spill the beans; what did the 'er majesty do this time?"

Sarah flinched at his insulting, flippant tone. He still hated Cora and really she couldn't blame him. She couldn't bring herself to stop him either, what right had she? Last week she'd have laughed grimly and listed her grievances, not caring about the other woman whatsoever.

But now Cora, Countess of bloody Grantham had gone and kissed her, led her so close to her bed and then turned her down. Her head told her that there were good reasons for what Cora had done, that they had been heading dangerously down a path from which there was no return. But god her heart still wanted it. Still wanted to feel that warm flesh beneath her hands, still wanted to drag delicious sounds from Cora's lips. She humoured herself slightly that at least she could still do the former, perhaps not quite a reverently as she had last night, when Cora took her bath later.

_Oh Christ, the bath!_

She could palm the breakfast tray off the Thomas but she could hardly send him in her place for the bath (although the mental image of both their faces was nearly enough to cheer her up). So it would have to be her, she'd have to touch her again without thinking of how she touched her last night...

_Great._

"What makes you think she's done anything? God forbid! If she raised a finger it'd only be to ring that bloody bell to 'ave me tend to her every need. Well," she couldn't stop herself. "When it suits her."

Now that made Thomas' eyebrow go up. To run around after her like a bloody love-struck schoolgirl, catering to her every single whim for the last week only to turn around and start slating her again like none of it had ever happened? That nothing had changed?

A thought suddenly occurred to him, and he laughed out loud as the sheer absurdity of it. But then he looked closer. He saw the thin, tight line of O'Brien's lips, like she was trying to stop herself from crying or something, and the tension in her body. Most of all, when he looked into her eyes, he saw how tormented they were (now he was sound like a bloody romance novel).

_Oh bloody hell._

It couldn't be, could it? Was Sarah O'Brien, the only other sane person he'd ever known in this godforsaken world, lusting after the flipping Countess of Grantham? He'd heard of servants falling into bed with their employers before and it had often ended badly, with the offending employer being caught with his pants around his ankles, and the poor cow being sent as far away as humanly possible. But he'd never thought O'Brien could be one of them idiots!

Maybe he was reading it wrong. Thomas had never really been known for his powers of perception, but when something was staring him in the face like this was...

"You hear about their fight last night?" he asked casually. He wasn't going to go right out and ask, right in front of the bleedin' staff, if the woman was shaggin' her employer.

Sarah glanced over him vaguely, assessing whether he had caught her tone. He was a crafty sod after all and if anyone was likely to make the wild leap in reasoning that working out what had happened last night required, it was Thomas.

The look he was giving her gave her an answer. She could have kicked herself; did she want to tell Thomas? Would it really solve anything? No, of course it wouldn't. Would it make her feel better? She supposed she had no option but to find out, his faux-casual tones let her know that he was on the right lines, but how much did she intend to reveal? Thomas might well think that she had a doomed passion for Cora that had not been reciprocated: did he really think she was that stupid?

He really had no idea of knowing how close they'd come did he? It wasn't like he'd been there in the room, although god help her she almost wished he had been, if none of this had happened at all she wouldn't be feeling like this now would she?

"Heard about it? I was bloody picking up the pieces afterwards." She locked eyes with Thomas, knowing he would realise her double meaning if no one else did.

Bloody hell, thought Thomas, he was right. There was no mistaking O'Brien's words, or the glint in her eyes. Something had definitely happened, and there were no prizes for getting what that something was. Repressing the urge to snigger, Thomas settled on a big, broad smirk.

"Picking up the pieces, eh? I'm sure 'er ladyship appreciated that," he said, with more than a hint of suggestion in his voice. Everybody else in this room was too stupid to pick up on it though, so Thomas felt safe in his teasing. And even if they did, well perhaps they all needed to know that the high and mighty Lady Grantham was nothing more than a common tart. Maybe Lord Grantham needed to know? For his lordship's own benefit, of course.

"No wonder you're ill, after that," he continued cheerily, altogether too pleased with himself. A part of him was a little disappointed in O'Brien, giving in to the stupid cow's charms but the other half of Thomas was duly impressed that O'Brien had somehow managed to get the other woman into bed, given how sickeningly obsessed she and Lord Grantham were with one another.

How had it happened? he wondered. Had O'Brien finally, finally told her to shut her self-absorbed trap after all of these years and silenced her with a bruising kiss? He almost sniggered at the thought of the Countess, almost as daft as bloody William, responding to _that_.

Sarah could practically see his mind turning. The little smirk on his face was a tad unnerving and she knew that he was thinking something altogether more lewd had happened than what actually had. She glanced around the rest of the room, checking to make sure that no one else had picked up on Thomas' tone. Of course none of them had. There was no chance really; they were all too thick and too innocent to even think of something like that happening. The only ones she might be concerned about, Anna and Bates, were thankfully absent.

"She gave me the run around no mistake."

His smirk got bigger and she knew she shouldn't have spoken, it was only going to make things worse. She knew, too, that Thomas was probably a bit disgusted at her and it bothered her - he hated Cora almost as much as she did (_had, _Sarah, there's no point lying to yourself now is there?) and he was no doubt creating some lurid fantasy where she showed the Countess what for. Or maybe it was the other way round? Maybe he thought she was completely pathetic? He certainly wouldn't look at her the same again.

Somehow she had thought this might happen. However much, or little as the case may be, had happened with her ladyship she had known that Thomas would look at her and somehow, inexplicably discern that they had nearly fallen into bed together. Little sod.

"Fancy a fag?"

She shot out of her seat before she heard his reply, certain that he was going to follow her and indulge his own nicotine habit too. She was equally certain that he was dying to know the full story and she supposed that she'd have to tell him, if for no other reason than to stop him imagining worse.

There was no way Thomas was going to say no with a story like this he needed to extract from her. Unceremoniously putting down the silver - why wasn't William doing it anyway? - rolling his eyes at a sharp comment from Hughsie, he quickly followed O'Brien to the back stairs.

Thomas found it curious, though, that O'Brien had sat at the kitchen table looking utterly miserable and feigning illness, after a night of passion with her ladyship. Years of hating the woman and she'd finally got one over on her. Thomas was practically skipping in delight at the wealth of blackmail material and he wasn't the one who had bedded the Countess of Grantham. Surely O'Brien should be doing the same; even if she didn't want to blackmail Lady Grantham, she'd still taken a tumble with her. If Thomas had any interest in women, he'd be rather proud of himself for managing to get that far with a _Countess_.

Obviously it was a lot more complicated than a simple roll in the hay.

No sooner had they made it outside, before Thomas pounced.

"So?" he prompted, fixing his gaze on her sharply. "You goin' to be telling me the story or do I have to get it out of you myself?"

She could hardly feign ignorance now could she? He knew enough to get her and her mistress into trouble so she might as well make sure he knew the right thing.

"I'll tell you. But god help you if this goes any further!"

She made sure the look she gave him showed she meant business. No matter what else he was he wasn't daft and he knew when to listen to her. She lit a cigarette.

"They 'ad a row an' after 'is lordship buggered off I went in. That was me first mistake. An'...well... I s'pose she was just reaching for the nearest person which happened to be yours truly. But, because it's 'er an' nothin's ever simple an' she likes nothin' more than windin' me up, she went an' changed 'er bloody mind didn't she?"

She sucked on her cigarette, glad to have got it all out of her system. Thomas, as far as anybody else was concerned, was probably the least discreet person to tell but he also knew that she'd make sure his chances of having children were even more unlikely should he spill the beans.

For a moment, all Thomas could do was blink. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting - he'd been hoping to hear that O'Brien had taken the cow down a peg or two - but this was … well, it was a little disappointing. Hardly as scandalous as he'd imagined it might be!

"So …'er ladyship rejected you?" he asked, trying to understand the events as they had unfolded. He took a drag of his cigarette, before reaching up to scratch his dark head.

So, the Countess had reached out to O'Brien in a moment of vulnerability, taken what she'd needed and then dismissed her? Thomas felt a stab of anger swell inside. It was just like Cora Crawley, he thought, and her whole wretched class. To use and abuse them like they were nothing but the dirt under their shoes.

Hesitating - even he was not immune to O'Brien's violent mood swings - he asked the question he suspected was really bothering him. "You love 'er?"

She nearly choked on her cigarette. Was that really what he thought her misery was about? She composed herself as best she could. Was that really what this _was _about? The thought terrified her. She'd wanted to make love to the other woman, undoubtedly, but then Cora had wanted her too and there was no way in hell that the Countess _loved_ her. Christ, she probably didn't even _like _her now.

"Love 'er? Course I bloody don't!" The negative response came easier than trying to delve into her true feelings. Thomas looked unconvinced. "I...I don't...well I certainly bloody didn't yesterday so I don't see why I would today! I've been worried about 'er since she took that fall, she's not been 'erself an' it was half my fault an' all. An last night she said she wanted me but...well...apparently she changed 'er mind."

She hated babbling like this but the urge to just _tell _someone, to make sure somebody understood what had taken place was overwhelming. It was strange, she'd promised her ladyship that she could keep the secret of a potential affair but now nothing had happened she couldn't wait to tell Thomas.

She took another deep drag and felt decidedly sorry for herself.

"She doesn't want me." She all but whispered the last.

"The bloody cow," Thomas spoke finally, after watching the interplay of emotions flicker over O'Brien's face. It scared him, more than he liked to admit, to see the woman like this. O'Brien had always been the strong one. After the mess with the Duke, he'd looked to her to regain his bearings, and she hadn't disappointed, ready with a fag and a scathing comment or two.

And now she was reduced to whispering and babbling all nervous-like, because she'd put herself in her ladyship's hands and the bitch had pulled the rug out from under her. Thomas was certainly no teddy bear, but he liked O'Brien. He was fond of her, even, and he didn't like the thought of some holier than thou Countess messing her around. Thomas couldn't look past the surface, and see Cora's reasoning. He'd never been any good at the deeper stuff.

"You don't owe the tart anything, you're better than 'er. You should tell 'is lordship that she came onto you. Get her sent back to America in disgrace. It's more than she deserves after the way she's treated you for ten bloody years!"

She snorted as she blew out a long ream of smoke. She was suddenly very glad that she'd told Thomas, it was oddly soothing to hear the sort of words she might have said last week when she was still herself, even if he was missing the point.

"Don't be daft, I'm not gonna ruin 'er. She'd never forgive me and I would quite like not to die in the poor house thank you very much."

She felt suddenly very fond of Thomas; it was good of him really, to be so angry on her behalf. She didn't fool herself into thinking that it was all to do with her, she knew half of it was his own anger at the ruling classes and especially the Duke. But Cora was better than the Duke; she could admit that at least. Cora had not strung her along with promises of false hope and Cora had not intentionally stamped on her heart, knowing she could do absolutely nothing in retaliation.

"You didn't turn 'im in lad. I don't see why the 'ell I should."

She said it quietly, sympathetically even. She didn't mean to bring up such a bad memory but she wanted him to understand. It wasn't the same.

"I didn't turn 'im in because I had no proof," Thomas muttered, feeling very cross with himself suddenly. He didn't like the pity in her voice, and he certainly didn't like the sympathy on her face. This wasn't how he and O'Brien were together. They plotted and schemed; they didn't lament over lost love.

Love. It was a word that often made Thomas' stomach contract in disgust. But he'd felt it with the Duke, not that he'd ever admit to anyone, except O'Brien, and if she really _did _love her ladyship, who neither deserved nor was worth it, then good luck to her. She'd need it, the poor cow.

Thomas shook his head before taking another puff from the rapidly dwindling cigarette. "You should at least confront 'er. Demand an explanation. She aint a goddess; she can't play with people's 'earts."

He looked to O'Brien curiously after blowing free another cloud of smoke. "So 'ow far did you get, then? With 'er ladyship? Tell me all the sordid details."

She smirked. She'd seen the look on his face when she'd tried to be softer and decided not to bother in future. She supposed details of sexual misadventures were a better thing to share than feelings. He'd certainly not spared her blushes with regards to the Duke's physique.

"I spent about half an 'our latched on to that spot I told you about before. The one on 'er neck? Well first she stuck 'er 'and down me dress actually, she couldn't find the buttons," she rolled her eyes for effect, quite enjoying herself now. "So I'm stood there kissin' the face off 'er an' she's goin' mental tryin' to get in me clothes. I'd got 'er gown round 'er waist pretty quick an' she was goin' for it. An' then she just bloody stopped an' decided she couldn't do it. So off I went, with 'er sayin' sorry an' it meant so much to 'er."

She breathed deeply. It had been private but like that it'd hurt so much. Spewing it all out to Thomas was therapeutic and at least she hadn't described Cora's body in quite the lurid detail Thomas had the Duke's.

"She said sorry?"

That was a detail that Thomas hadn't been expecting. The Duke had never bloody well said sorry to him, and he'd never believed her ladyship to be any better than him. They were all the same, or so he'd thought. He couldn't imagine Lady Grantham apologising, didn't think that she even knew what the words meant. She'd been born with a silver spoon in her gob, and she'd never had to apologise for anything in her life. Her treatment of servant's aside, of course.

It surprised him, but didn't reform her in his eyes. She'd still lead O'Brien on and blatantly broken her heart, whether O'Brien believed she had one or not. And she'd made both of their lives a misery since the minute they'd both stepped foot in Downton. Did she really believe that sorry meant anything? And what it meant to her ladyship paled in comparison to what it had clearly meant to her maid.

"Well, it's 'er loss," he commented, his eyes gleaming mischievously at O'Brien's description of their encounter. "But you're rubbish at spilling details. I want to know everythin'. It might come in 'andy later on. Was she really gaggin' for it? That says sommert, y'know, about 'is lordship's skills in the bedroom." He wiggled his eyebrows for effect.

Thomas highlighting that particular aspect of the night didn't surprise her really. She was certain that no one had ever said sorry to Thomas and certainly the Duke had never done so. It was something she herself had pondered on quite a bit actually, was Cora genuinely sorry to have hurt her feelings? Or was she sorry about something else? That it couldn't happen perhaps?

She didn't feel the need to explain the ins and outs of the apology to Thomas, he probably wouldn't understand anyway. She knew that Cora was a better person than Thomas gave her credit for, but it was pointless trying to explain it to him - especially as this time last week she'd have quite agreed with him about her being a bitch, although perhaps not a tart.

"'Er loss indeed! You gonna try yer luck next!" She smirked at him and her eyes danced with the same merriment. She felt better in this relationship, the boundaries were clear here. "Right, this goes no further right?...You'd think she 'adn't 'ad it in months the noises she was makin'! I think my mistake was to go too slow, if I'd just chucked 'er on the bed an' 'ad at it, she wouldn't 'ave stopped me."

Thomas couldn't help but snigger. The image of the self-righteous, dignified Countess of Grantham practically begging for it before being tossed on the bed and ravished by her lady's maid was just too amusing for words. As was the idea that his lordship wasn't quite holding up his end in that particular department. No wonder Lady G'd gone after her maid.

"No thank you, Miss O'Brien," Thomas snorted, screwing up his face in disgust at the idea. "I'll leave that to you. I bet I could 'ave her if I wanted 'er though. I bet even William could 'ave her, if 'e got it in his innocent little brain to 'ave a pop. Her ladyship's easier than I thought."

He was glad that O'Brien had cheered up somewhat. No point wasting her misery on someone like Lady Grantham. She wasn't worth it. Hopefully this'd mean O'Brien might go back to being the cynical, sarcastic bitch she'd been before all of this, before the blasted baby had died and before her ladyship had turned her big doe eyes in her lady's maid's direction. She'd gone all soft, and it'd been no fun at all.

"You wouldn't like 'er anyway, she's too clean for you. I should bloody know." She laughed at the idea of William's clumsy hands on her ladyship's smooth curves; the very idea seemed sacrilegious. "She's not like that though, well not with the likes of us. I don't reckon my blood's blue enough for 'er."

Sarah felt lighter than she had in days and almost wished she'd been able to tell Thomas last night. The sting of being rejected hadn't gone but it felt better to share it with Thomas, who would be on her side without shadow of a doubt.

She felt more herself. The insults came easier to her lips than the whispered promise she had made Cora last night, for all the good they'd done. It occurred to her that Thomas would be gone soon and the thought doused her mood somewhat, but she was determined to enjoy his friendship while she could.

"You gonna try again?" he asked. Something told Thomas that if she couldn't even face taking a tray upstairs to the woman, O'Brien wouldn't be trying anything on anytime soon. But with his lordship going off to war and her ladyship being left all lonely like…

She laughed at his question, being far too old to find it shocking as she knew she should really.

"I don't think she'd 'ave me lad. Probably made up with his lordship by now, I'm surprised we can't 'ear 'em given 'ow eager she was last night...Will you take the tray up for me?"

"Yeah, I'll take up the tray," Thomas agreed, without a second of hesitation. He didn't want poor O'Brien going up there into the snake pit after what had happened last time. After all, they were friends, weren't they? At least, she was the only person in this bloody place he considered such. Maybe the only person he considered such.

Besides, he'd be stupid to let an opportunity to go up there and witness her ladyship's state of mind first hand pass him by. Would she feel guilty? he wondered. Would she be relieved to see him and not O'Brien? Or had she wanted to see O'Brien, and try to apologise again? Thomas almost snorted, shaking his head. Of course not. She would carry on like before, without a care in the world, sitting up in her bed like a bloody Queen having already forgotten about her maid. It made him sick, the idea of serving the likes of her, knowing what she really was.

"And don't you worry," he smirked at her. He thought that he heard a bell in the distance, coming most likely from the kitchen. If it was her ladyship, no doubt old lady Hughes would be out here any second. "I promise I'll try an' keep my mouth shut. No insults and all that. As far as 'er ladyship is concerned, I know nothing." He imitated a zipping motion over his lips.

"Mind you don't let on, or we'll both be out of 'ere before his lordship even knew what was 'appenin'. Go on, that's 'er ladyship's bell, I can hear that bloody woman screeching for me. Christ I've already told 'er I'm not well an' all." She winked at him with a smirk and began to head back inside.

"Thanks for this lad; I might even give you a smoke and the lurid details later."

She heard him laugh behind her but trailed off in a different direction, missing the kitchen entirely and heading back upstairs to her room. Anna or Gwen could see to Cora's dressing, she was going to take the woman's offer from the night before and have the morning off.


	7. Great Divide

Cora's mother had once explained to her that no matter what happened in life, it would seem better in the morning. But this statement had been proved false on countless occasions throughout Cora's forty-four years, particularly throughout this last disastrous month. She had always told her children the same thing, and felt almost guilty for telling them such a monstrous lie.

Cora had found it difficult to sleep last night; the bed had seemed emptier than usual, without Robert's warm and solid frame and his strong arms holding her close. He had not slept in her bed for over a week now, but last night had been the worst night yet. Cora had her suspicions as to why that was, and as a result she had rung hesitantly for Sarah O'Brien. The memory of their embrace was still so raw, seared into her mind so that every time she closed her eyes she saw them. Cora could still vividly imagine the softness of Sarah's lips against hers, and the rough, seeking hands sliding over her bare flesh. Their embrace had awoken a side of Cora that she had never known existed, and she ached to explore it, though she knew she couldn't.

A part of her hoped that Sarah had decided to take the morning off after all. She couldn't even begin to imagine what she would say to the other woman, or how she would act. Things could never be the same now, could they? Perhaps Mrs Hughes would be sent up instead; sweet, uncomplicated Mrs Hughes, who would sooner die than bring such disgrace to her mistress.

But she had wanted Sarah too, it had not been an unrequited passion. If Sarah had persisted, Cora would have gladly given in and allowed the other woman to lower her to the bed. She closed her eyes, pushing away all thought of what might have happened next.

Jumping as somebody rapped briskly against the door, Cora steeled herself for the inevitable.

"Yes," Cora called out, beckoning the visitor in.

He opened the door slowly, half-hoping that her ladyship would speak before she realised who it was. He didn't know what he was hoping for...was he anticipating her to be splayed out on the bed starkers and to moan 'Take me now'? Hardly.

He made sure to immediately look at her face when he entered and had to hide a smirk at the slight air of disappointment she displayed. She tried to cover it up with shock and he wished to god he were able to force his own thoughts into her mind.

_You're no better than a common tart. Leading on a woman who'd walk over hot coals for you, you bloody jumped-up bitch!_

"Good morning your ladyship. Miss O'Brien's feeling a bit under the weather so she asked me to bring up your breakfast."

He made sure to emphasise the point - O'Brien had asked him. She'd been well enough to ask him this favour. He kept his eyes on her face as he closed the door and carried the tray across the room, laying it on her lap, half-wishing she'd make an involuntary jump or something and spill the hot tea all over herself - it was the least she bloody deserved - he daren't knock it over himself.

Oh Sarah, Cora thought to herself as her heart clenched painfully in her chest. Of course she had taken the morning off, of course she had sent somebody else up in her place. After what she had done, Cora would not be surprised if Sarah packed up her things and left Downton for good. And that prospect terrified Cora more than she wished to admit to herself.

She wanted to cry. She could so easily burst into tears in front of the young footman, but she knew better than that. Tears pricked at her eyes anyway, threatening to escape but Cora willed them back. It was too awful for words, the way that she felt, and she was certain that Sarah felt much, much worse.

"Thank you, Thomas," she murmured kindly, looking to the tray with a kind of miserable detachment. If she looked heartbroken right now, she could only hope that Thomas assumed it was because of the baby. Cora hesitated, before looking up to meet Thomas' eyes…

She couldn't help but suck in a quiet breath at the contempt she saw, veiled of course, but visible all the same. Cora had never taken the time to look before, so she wasn't certain whether Thomas had always looked at her in this way.

Sarah, last night, had told her that Thomas was the closest thing she had to family. Had she told him what had happened?

Her heart hammering in her chest, Cora spoke in slow, measured tones. "I trust that you'll pass on my regards and" _and what? _"tell O'Brien that I hope, very much so, that she feels better and is able to return to me soon. And if there is anything I can do..." she trailed off, her shoulders slumped.

_You self-righteous cow! The last thing Sarah O'Brien needs at the moment is you sticking your oar in. Christ if only you knew what you'd done..._

He took a breath as he stood straight again and tried to think rationally in case he said something unforgivable.

The Countess certainly looked pretty miserable (as she bloody deserves to!) and she was staring at the tray like she never wanted to face food again. She still looked a bit flushed and he imagined that last night her entire body had been covered with a red flush. He'd never taken a great deal of time examining women's bodies but Cora certainly didn't seem to be comfortable in her own skin and he couldn't help but notice the slight red mark at her throat. Not enough for someone to immediately guess what she'd been up to but he already knew what he was looking for.

It was tantalising and glaring proof of what had happened and he silently wished that it would stay with her forever, as a reminder.

"I'll pass them on m'lady, but I'm not sure if there's much to be done. She's not ill very often you see, so we're hoping it'll get out of her system quickly."

He glanced briefly around the room, wondering if he would be able to see any other proof of last night's activities and it was only due to years of honing his eagle eye as a footman that he happened to spot half a dozen pins lying underneath the window.

Casually he walked over and picked the pins off the floor and made sure to turn around before he pocketed them. He wanted her to see them. Wanted her to know. He felt a slight stab of annoyance at himself over that. Had he not promised O'Brien ten minutes ago that he wouldn't let on at all? Well what could her ladyship say?

"I'm sure she'll be fine and well to assist you with your bath this afternoon."

For his own part Thomas had absolutely no idea if O'Brien was planning to emerge from her bedroom for the rest of the day - no doubt Mrs Hughes would eventually twig that she was alright really - but he hoped the mention of a bath would raise some kind of response from her ladyship. He hoped the thought of O'Brien's eyes and hands raking over her body made her feel duly ashamed of what she had done. But he doubted she gave a shit really.

Oh God, the bath. Cora flinched at the idea, unable to imagine anything that could possibly be worse underneath the circumstances than having the reason for all of her misery bathing her. Just thinking of O'Brien's hands on her flesh again, the woman seeing her stripped bare…Sarah had seen her naked so many times before, but never like this. Never after such passion.

She felt sick as she watched Thomas bend over to collect the tiny pins from the floor; barely noticeable, blending in with the colour of the bedroom floor, but Thomas had seen them anyway. He must have known who they belonged to, even if Sarah had not told him what had happened between them. But from the look in his eyes, the tension in his body, and the way he had ensured she would see him pocketing the pins, Cora, without a shadow of a doubt, knew that he knew.

She supposed that meant she had nothing else to lose.

"Thomas," Cora breathed, her voice dropping to a whisper. Her eyes met his piercingly, and put the breakfast tray aside. She had no intention of eating anyway. "Please tell her. Tell her that I hope she recovers and that I…I'll be thinking of her." She couldn't stop.

Cora had never spoken to a servant like this before, pleadingly. She hoped that her eyes conveyed the emotion that she felt, that she was so very sorry. She doubted it would matter much to Thomas, given the contempt he seemed to hold her in, but she needed Sarah to know.

"Please Thomas, it is very important that she knows."

He hadn't expected her to look at him like that. Christ, she really did look sorry! Of course it could all be an act, goodness knows women in her class were not above lying through their teeth but Thomas had had a lifetimes experience with liars and she seemed genuine enough.

He shuffled slightly, something he never, ever did in front of his employers and frowned slightly at her ladyship. What was he supposed to say? Pretend that he didn't know what she was on about? Berate her? God, he'd love to do that! Let it all out and let her have it! But he knew that would be the worst idea and he also knew that Sarah would have his hide if he so much as dared.

"I'll let her know m'lady."

She'd never spoken to him like this before. As far as he knew she'd never spoken to any of them like this, except maybe Sarah and she'd kept it quiet if Cora had. Maybe..maybe she wasn't all bad? She really did seem sorry, the guilt was positively radiating off her and she seemed as morose as Sarah had this morning.

"Do you want me to tell 'er anything else m'lady?"

"Just that I'm sorry," Cora whispered in response, her shoulders slumping. There was no point in either of them pretending they didn't know what she was apologising for.

Curiously, Thomas seemed terribly surprised by her actions; did he really think that she didn't care that she'd hurt Sarah? Of course she cared, she cared more than she ever expected she would. Regardless of class or impropriety, she and O'Brien had formed a connection, one which had taken her utterly by surprise and had left her feeling muddled and more than a little lost.

If only she and Robert were on good terms, maybe she would not be feeling this way, but she doubted it. What happened between Cora and Sarah might have been marginally swayed by Cora's anger at her husband, but that was not all. She had wanted Sarah; she wasn't going to pretend that wasn't true.

Did Thomas, and all of the rest of them, really think that little of her? She had always tried to be courteous, tried to be warm, but it seemed her efforts had not had the intended effect. It seemed, instead, they thought her some kind of heartless mistress.

"And-" she hesitated, looking to her hands. There were boundaries between servants and employers that should never be crossed. Cora should not be having this conversation with Thomas, but she felt too miserable, too guilty not to say something. "And that she deserved better. I am truly sorry if…that I hurt her."

He felt a surge of pity. He didn't want to, it revolted him, _she_ revolted him. Here she was trying to apologise to him on O'Brien's behalf (_If you'd got half an' 'eart 'my lady' you'd get off yer arse and go and find 'er yerself!_) and against all reason he was actually starting to believe that she meant it.

Lord Grantham was a decent man, even if he was a toff, so Thomas supposed it wasn't completely out of the question that his wife would be decent-ish too. But her pretty words and miserable face were all very well now, she'd done something to Sarah that other servants were generally petrified that their employers would try one day. Sarah hadn't been scared of course, she'd risen to the occasion, as far as Thomas could tell, and then her ladyship had just changed her mind. Cow.

The way Sarah had told it, it sounded like Lady G was gagging for it and he had no reason to doubt his friend's word. Perhaps she wasn't just feeling guilt? Maybe there was more _regret _there than anything else? Inside he smirked; it seemed like Miss O'Brien's chances of a repeat performance were quite high actually.

Her words shocked him. Christ she _was _sorry - and on top of that it seemed someone from this bloody class had finally found some self-awareness. For that reason, and that reason alone, Thomas decided not to hate her completely, even if she _was_messing with Sarah. It was plain as day to him that if O'Brien touched her just right then this one would be on her back in a second, so he didn't worry about his friend too much - she'd probably planned for the long game all along, crafty old cow.

"I'll let her know m'lady. If you don't mind me saying though I don't think it's a matter of deserving anything. She knows what she wants and well...she's your maid so I s'pose she must know what you want too."

He escaped before she could say anything else. He knew she'd be shocked by his words and only hoped that they prompted some action rather than getting O'Brien into trouble. Although maybe if Cora was raging mad again maybe she'd make her mind up and stick with it! He chortled on the stairs and went to tell Sarah what had happened, hoping she wouldn't wallop him for letting the cat out of the bag.

Cora, in all of her years, had never been spoken to quite so frankly by a servant, save Sarah of course. Her initial reaction was anger - how dare a footman presume to speak to her, the _Countess of Grantham_, in such a way? She felt a stab of outrage, and nearly - so very nearly - pushed herself out of bed and went marching after him in righteous indignation.

But what good would that do, really? Apart from alerting the rest of the house to the fact that she'd come terrifyingly close to beginning an affair with her lady's maid! Besides, Cora had practically invited Thomas' words, hadn't she? She had been the one to drop the Countess mask and beg the footman to speak to Sarah on her behalf. Cora never begged (she was much too proud) but something about this awfully messy situation had her behaving like a confused teenager!

But really, Cora supposed the real reason for such burning indignation was that Thomas had been right; after a long sleepless night, Cora could at least admit that to herself. She wanted Sarah, irrespective of the consequences. But she couldn't let it happen again. She hadn't changed her mind about that. The stakes were still the same. But dear God, if Sarah touched her again…it would be the greatest test of Cora's willpower yet.


	8. One Thing Leads to Another

A/N: Rating goes up as of this chapter, even if the real M material doesn't occur until the next chapter!

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><p>Some hours later, Sarah O'Brien grudgingly trudged up the servant's staircase towards the door that came out closest to Cora's room.<p>

Bloody Hughes! How was the old bag to know whether she really was ill or not? Although she supposed once Hughsie had sussed it out there was no other excuse she could give her. Then again, revealing the secret to a second person would be almost worth the look on her face - you could lock the men away you old cow, but it's prowling Countess' you should be wary of!

Sarah smirked to herself as she continued the climb but her mood was dwindling rapidly at the thought of how much closer she was getting to Cora with every step; she'd successfully avoided her for most of the day - Thomas the breakfast tray, Anna dressing her, Gwen for lunch. Perhaps if she threw enough servants at Cora the other woman might prove Thomas right and pounce on one of them? Sarah hadn't clobbered him when he came back down, although the urge had been strong when he told her what her ladyship had said in an annoying, cloying attempt at an American accent.

_She'd be thinking of her._

What a strange thing to say of someone you couldn't seem to wait to get rid of last night. Sarah shook her head and reached the door. At the last minute she changed her mind, and, though she wished to god she could just go, go upstairs and pack her things and get out of this house forevermore, she went instead along a side corridor that came out in Cora's bathroom. Before the house had full running water it had been a means of servant's getting water into the room, which Sarah thought must account for the slightly rotten floorboards on the servants side.

She went inside and felt her insides squirm, as they did every time she was in this room now. As if the memory of last night wasn't bad enough, the fate of that baby was never, _ever _going to leave her mind. If she closed her eyes she could still see Cora on the ground, half-broken with pain and grief. They'd both known. The moment Sarah had knelt down on the soaked floor and held her close as she lifted her and practically carried her to the bedroom next door, she'd known that the baby hadn't stood a chance.

God help her, even the memory of what she had done and the devastation she had caused, the memory of her ladyship giving _birth _to that poor child, wasn't enough to rid herself of the thrill that shot through her body at the thought of touching Cora, then and now.

She turned the taps as she went past them, padded the floor with towels and reached the connecting door. She took a deep breath, straightened her dress slightly and knocked with what she hoped was her usual forthrightness.

Inside Cora had been preparing herself for this moment since the second she had opened her eyes. She had spent the day being served and dressed by servants she scarcely ever saw, a succession of nervously apologetic young women who all said the same thing. _"Miss O'Brien is feeling a little under the weather, m'lady._" Cora knew the likelihood of Sarah suddenly developing some form of grievous illness which prevented her from attending to her duties overnight was small, but she couldn't bring herself to insist on the other woman attending her. If she intended to avoid her then Cora couldn't blame her. She only hoped Sarah wouldn't do it forever.

She had been somewhat relieved not to receive another visit from Thomas. Cora truly couldn't handle any more honesty. Her heart already ached enough, without the added pressure of the footman giving her a piece of his obviously outraged mind. A part of her was somewhat comforted by the knowledge Sarah had such a loyal friend, but the other part felt nauseous imagining the things they might be saying behind her back. Going on how he had looked earlier, she didn't imagine Thomas was her biggest fan at the moment and she knew that Sarah could have a sharp tongue at times

It occurred to her that she hadn't responded to the knock at the door. She could just imagine Sarah on the other side, probably rolling her eyes at how her mistress was so pathetic she couldn't even face up to her mistakes, if it truly had been a mistake. She didn't know that either.

But oh god, it was time for that bath she had been dreading all day. Cora could barely stand the idea of being in that room, irregardless of dreading Sarah's hands on her body, the memory of that fall was still so stark in her mind, of a floor soaked in crimson and her cries of grief as the awful truth dawned on her; no child could ever survive such a fall.

Cora breathed in deeply, and finally opened her mouth in response. "Come in, O'Brien."

Sarah steeled herself as she opened the door. Thomas had given her a fairly detailed description of how her ladyship had been that morning so she knew what to expect. Sure enough Cora looked thoroughly forlorn and Sarah had to resist the urge to immediately rush to her and gather the other woman in her arms. It was overwhelming and she hated herself for it, wishing away all the feelings from the night before that came down on her again like thunder.

Her eyes darted quickly to the slight mark on her ladyship's neck, practically faded away entirely now but still slightly visible to Sarah's searching eyes. She though it would make her feel better - she'd branded the other woman and even if she'd pulled away it was there as proof - but instead she just felt regret. She wanted nothing more than to do it again and allow her hands free reign without Cora stopping her.

She'd meant to be detached. Hell, she'd even flirted with the idea of being as harsh as she was below stairs but she couldn't be anything but kind. It would have killed her to see more pain in Cora's eyes at the moment. Christ! She just wanted to hold her till it was better again! And then she hated herself for the sappy thoughts surging through her as rapidly as the rekindled lust.

"I've drawn your bath m'lady."

She nearly immediately skedaddled out again but Cora was still dressed and Anna pulled corsets tighter than strictly necessary so there was no way in hell Cora would be getting undressed without her assistance. Bugger.

God, but she was beautiful, even falling apart and miserable like this she was still beautiful and with her eyes rimmed with unshod tears Sarah felt like there was nothing in the world she wouldn't do for this woman if she only asked. She looked briefly towards the bath and wondered why she had felt the need to surround it with towels for her ladyship to step on. It would mean more cleaning afterwards but she didn't really care and hoped it made her feel a bit safer.

"Shall I undress you m'lady?"

She kept her tone as neutral as humanly possible and stepped further into the room, fetching the dressing gown from where it lay at the foot of the bed. _Bloody Anna_, she thought trying to distract herself, _putting things in the wrong places_.

Instead of responding to Sarah's question Cora reached up to her back, feeling for the delicate buttons of the material covering the corset beneath. Anna had, as always, bundled her in quite tight, and Cora's breasts were practically crushed against the ridiculous garment and, as much as she'd like it to be the case, she could certainly not undress without Sarah's help. She closed her eyes as a brief flash of despair covered her face. Cora had no clue how she was going to survive the feel of Sarah's rough fingers stroking over her flesh, especially not once she had made it to the bath, but they had little choice but to carry on as they'd always done, kiss or no kiss, _And it wasn't just a kiss, was it Cora?_

Cora immediately noticed Sarah's irritation at the misplacing of the garment and couldn't help but smile fondly. If her maid thought she noticed nothing then she was sorely mistaken - Cora knew everything had it's place and knew how irate Sarah could get when her dresses, jewellery or shoes somehow found their way to the wrong place; she suspected Anna might be in for a sharp word or two.

"I tried to tell Anna that you usually hang my dressing gown over the back of the chair, but I couldn't get a word in edgewise. She talks a great deal about Mister Bates, doesn't she?"

In fact, the other woman hadn't stopped talking about her husband's valet, and Cora had even begun to become distinctly uncomfortable at the blatant longing in the young maid's voice. There had already been a wealth of longing lingering from the night before.

Cora offered Sarah a weak smile. She hoped desperately that they could bridge the awkwardness that now existed between them, but considering her heart practically exploded out of her chest every time she looked at Sarah now, she wasn't hopeful. And god, the way the other woman was looking at her right now... She was trying to be so strong and remain so utterly in control, but Cora could see right through her. They had so very nearly made love; she didn't think that they could ever hide from each other again.

Holding her breath as Sarah moved behind her, she steeled herself for the inevitable desire which was already beginning to take over her body. As she opened her eyes, she caught side of the bath in the other room and almost cried at the sight of the towels covering the surrounding area.

"Oh Sarah," she whispered, barely aware she had spoken aloud. How could she have ever turned this woman away?

Sarah couldn't fathom what she had done now. She hadn't even _touched _the other woman and she was getting breathy but she decided to ignore it as best she could. It was probably for the best given the circumstances.

The dress was easy enough. She could undo the buttons at the back and slide it off Cora's shoulders, clutching onto the dress desperately rather than touching her skin, and did so until it was rucked around her waist and with a final tug fell to the ground. So far so good. She draped the dress over the bed, next to the dressing gown, and wished to god that this was the end of it, but no. She took a steadying breath and turned back to Cora.

The outline of her figure was emphasised more than ever by her underclothes and Sarah bit the inside of her cheek to stop her lips gaping open. Unlacing the corset wasn't too taxing. She could stare at the laces and curse Anna in her mind for being so...just wrong in her dressing of Cora. Dressing the lady of the house was not a job for a housemaid, head or otherwise! It came free and she considered just flicking it as hard as she could, hoping it would fall on the floor but instead she quickly wove her arms around Cora's stomach and put her experienced fingers to task as they flew over the clasps there. She reached the top one and nearly stopped, aware of how close her fingers were to Cora's breasts.

_Just touch her. Touch her. Palm her breast and latch onto her neck. Turn her to putty and she won't fight!_

But she couldn't. Not again. Her hand must have hovered for a fraction of a second over the last clasp but she was sure Cora would have noticed and cursed herself. She pulled the corset away. Right that was the worst of it...oh fuck.

Stockings. Bloody _stockings_.

She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and decided the only way to distract her ladyship from the undoubtedly shaking hands about to come was to distract her with conversation. Great. What to say? _'So did you have any other visitors last night that wanted to get you tangled in the bedsheets?' _Perhaps not. _'Thomas tells me you're thinking of me. Care to be more specific?' _Again no. What had Cora said? Something about Anna? Well she could certainly leap on that!

"Anna talks of nothing but Mr Bates most of the time m'lady. Although even before 'e arrived it was difficult to get a word in with 'er and Gwen going at full speed."

She sank to the floor behind her, hoping this would be easier if she didn't actually have to look at Cora, and though she knew her palms were getting hotter by the moment she pushed on regardless and tried to slide her hand underneath the skirt of the chemise, without actually touching too much flesh. It was impossible not to touch some after all. She reached for the outer thigh first, trying desperately to think of what she would do when she had to touch Cora's soft, inner thigh to undo the last tie.

Oh God, the stockings. Just when Cora had begun to think the worst was over she remembered the stockings. And God help her, though Sarah's fingers had never even strayed close to that area last night, it had been the area that had burned the most for the other woman's touch and still burned now. Cora was certain that Sarah would be able to feel the heat emanating from between her thighs and sucked in a breath in anticipation.

She thanked God for Sarah's sudden attempt at conversation. Even if it did nothing to relieve the aching in her poor, lust-ravaged body, it might at least distract her from having to focus too much on the feel of Sarah's hands gliding over her legs. She held her breath as Sarah's hand began its slow descent up the slope of her thigh. Cora had no idea how she would cope once Sarah's attention turned to her inner thigh, given the flush of searing desire that burned through her body at the simple touch to less intimate areas.

"Does she like Bates?" Cora asked as calmly as she could manage, despite her trembling hands and the distinctive flush covering every inch of her body.

"Like 'im?" Sarah snorted in amusement. "She's mad on 'im. Mrs Hughes keeps tryin' to stop 'em but-"

But _what _Sarah? Whatever will be will be? Not quite the best phrase for their current situation. Love will out? At least they didn't really have to worry about love. She cared more about Cora than the other woman clearly did about her but would she call it love?

"Well they've been gettin' pretty close."

_God sake Sarah! Close? What, like you and she are you great noodle!_

She stopped rambling; it couldn't end well. Besides which she might not like Anna all that much but there was an unwritten rule amongst the staff that they kept each others secrets below stairs.

She had succeeded in untying the outer thigh ties on both legs, and had made swift work of the front ones, even if it had meant she had been forced to move her face closer to her ladyship than she had wanted. She could smell her perfume mixing with something quite different, something she scarcely wanted to think about less she lose her control and spin the other woman round and bury her face in her lap. Now for the worst part. With slow and trembling fingers she placed a hand between her ladyship's thighs and agonisingly pushed them aside slightly so she could reach the first tie.

Her heart was pounding out of her chest and it increased significantly when she felt the heat of the other woman radiating onto her fingers. Christ, the slightest movement on the other woman's part and she couldn't be held responsible for her actions. The urge to touch Cora completely consumed her and she took her time over the ties. If she was too quick her hand might slip - it hadn't in ten years of course but who knew what she might do today?

For Cora's part, she did not know how much longer her legs would support her. She suppressed a  
>delighted shiver as Sarah's fingers brushed unwittingly against the flesh between her thighs, trying as hard as she could not to react. Not to spread her legs and let the other woman do whatever she liked. Not to grab her by that stupidly tight collar and push them both to the bed. She could do both so easily, and the images ran rampant through her tortured mind; she could barely prevent a moan from escaping her parted lips. Oh god, just a little higher and she would give in, she knew it.<p>

She had spent all night thinking of the other woman's touch, but she'd made her decision; no matter what had happened between them, no matter what _might _happen, she could never allow herself to give in the emotions raging through her again. But within the space of five minutes, Cora was ready to throw all that out of the window and let Sarah take her, and god she wanted her to so much. If she moved, even just an inch… She let out a breath.

"Surely Mrs Hughes cannot stop them from falling in love," Cora breathed.

If she had been in the right frame of mind, she might have caught the insolence in Sarah's voice as she spoke the older woman's name, but right now she could feel nothing feel the glorious sensation of fingers between her thighs and warm breath on her skin. She knew that it couldn't last, that Sarah would eventually finish with her stockings and there would be no reason to linger any longer, but she intended to revel in it for as long as it lasted.

Just one slight movement would be all that was needed.

Shaking her head slightly in an attempt to regain her mind Sarah finally finished on the first tie and slowly slid her fingers underneath the tops of the stocking, being very aware that there was only a slither of space between her wrist and Cora's warm centre. She tugged at the stocking, pulling it down her ladyship's long leg before stopping to allow the other woman to stand out of the foot. So far so good.

The second one was worse. On the way back up she misjudged the position of the tie at first and felt the warm skin just above it between her fingers until they scrambled back to the material. She undid it but as the last knot came apart her thumb flicked up and for a brief, agonisingly long second in which she realised she'd inadvertently flicked the very tip of it over damp underwear, she froze.

Her heart beat into her mouth and she couldn't form words to answer Cora's question. What did she care for Mrs Hughes right now? The old battle-axe would have her out on her backside if she found out about any of this, never mind Anna and bloody Bates!

She took a deep breath, that only served to make things worse as she inhaled the scent of her ladyship deeper, and managed, somehow, lord only knew how, to wrap her shaking fingers around the top of the second stocking and pull. She wasn't entirely sure but it was possible one of her knuckles had just followed where her thumb had been but as both of her arms were rapidly becoming numb she couldn't be certain.

_Oh god._

Cora simply couldn't help it. A moan escaped from her already parted lips, a moan Sarah was certain to hear, and a deep, pulsing heat spread through her already shaking body, culminating in her core. She had forgotten about Mrs Hughes and Anna and Bates in an instant and could think of _nothing _but Sarah's thumb brushing her heat and her knuckles following suit.

She knew Sarah hadn't meant to do it; she'd simply slipped or misjudged the angle or something equally explainable, but the feelings the touch evoked in her, no matter how accidental, were utterly explosive. It occurred to Cora she was still standing half-naked, the bathwater rapidly decreasing in temperature the longer they stood here like this, but neither of things mattered in the slightest with Sarah O'Brien touching her like this.

This was impossible. How did Cora expect to survive through being bathed by the woman if she couldn't even get through a single disrobing without wanting to bury her fingers in her hair and desperately guide her face to lap? If possible, that image made her flush even more, and she held her breath, heart pounding in her chest, and waited to see what happened next.

Sarah couldn't ignore her ladyship's moan this time. It had been considerably more audible and she knew she had not gotten away with the slight tremors in her hands. Christ! How on earth was she supposed to bathe her like this? The very thought of first helping this woman completely naked into the warm water, and no doubt Cora would cling to her less she slipped again, and then watching her wet form move beneath the surface was unbearable!

She felt the flush take over her body as it had done the night before at the very thought of what she wanted most. She tossed the other stocking onto the bed but didn't yet stand up. She could see herself, in this very position next to the bed, but with Cora splayed out in front of her, ready for her to make her moan more. She would have given a great deal to make her moan until she was completely hoarse.

Was it worth trying again? That was a stupid question really; of course it was, any path that led to her potentially kissing Cora again, anywhere on her body, would be more than worthwhile. Could she stand to be rejected again? Probably not, but she'd survived it once and it was clear that Cora still needed the connection they'd shared the night before. She closed her eyes and rested back on her feet, still on the ground but trying to move her head as far away from the other woman's body as possible, hoping it would give her some clarity.

When it didn't come she instead stood up and reached for the sides of the undershirt, preparing to lift it off the other woman and leave her in nothing but her underwear. As she pulled it off Cora's frame she felt her knuckles brush against the side of a breast and breathed sharply, unable to keep her own involuntary reactions to herself any longer. She finally allowed herself to look at her mistress in the mirror and nearly cried with how beautiful she was, stood in nothing but her silk underwear.

Meeting the other woman's eyes in the mirror, Cora sucked in a breath at the agony reflected on her face, and, lord help them both, the desire burning in her eyes. Was there really any point resisting this any longer? It was going to happen eventually; there was no way of avoiding it if they reacted this way every time they were alone in a room together. Surely it was best just to…get it out of their system.

"O'Brien…Sarah," she whispered, turning slowly to face the other woman. Her heart was so tight she could barely breathe. "I want-"

Could she even begin to define what it what that she wanted? Did she even know? She needed release; that much was certain. But it went beyond that, beyond mistress and employee and _far_ beyond friendship. It transcended lust. If it had simply been _lust_ Cora would have been able to rid herself of the ache, but how could she even begin to put what she _really_wanted into words?

Instead, Cora reached out one hand slowly, and, in a perfect imitation of the night before, pressed it slowly over Sarah's racing heart.

"I want you to touch me," she said breathlessly, her cheeks flushed as well as the rest of her. Her centre ached from the brief second of contact and it wasn't enough. Cora tried again, this time more sure of herself than she had been since this dance between them had begun. "I want you."


	9. Surrender

Sarah O'Brien's heart constricted.

_"I want you."_

God it would be so easy to just take her now...or try to at least. She'd been eager last night but changed her mind. Who was to say the Countess wasn't going to do it again? She seemed different, more like she had stopped fighting the passion between them, but Sarah didn't know if she could stand it she got further than she had last night and was dismissed again.

Cora was practically naked before her and asking her to touch her, specifically asking her. She wasn't just after release, she _needed_ her. Wanted her, and badly by the look of the flush across her neck and - god help her! - her breasts. It occurred to her that she could say no, could walk away and leave her wanting. The power was hers now and if she wanted to she could just - _Oh for Christ's sake Sarah! You wouldn't leave now if Lord Grantham himself came in and demanded to know why you were ogling his wife!_

No, there was no need to cut off her nose to spite her face. The small sense of self-respect she might gain by refusing the other woman was completely squashed by the possibility of making love to her here and now and fully exposing her desire. Her heart was pounding underneath Cora's hand, just as it had last night but her bloody dress was in the way. If she could get it off quicker this time perhaps Cora wouldn't have the chance to send her away?

Sarah wrapped her hand around Cora's and for a brief second thought how easy it would be to simply remove it and coldly leave but there was not a single part of her being that could bring herself to do that to the other woman. Only the left over bitter part of her brain.

She wanted this and so did Cora and, god help them both, it was going to happen.

Sarah leaned in and caught the other woman's lips as she had the night before, with considerably less chastity than they had begun with then, winding her free arm around Cora until she could pull them together, leaving their hands pinned between their bodies.

Cora felt a swell of relief that the other woman hadn't turned away - given the circumstances of her dismissal last night, she wouldn't have been surprised if Sarah had simply removed her mistress' hand and left the room - but it was quickly swallowed by her desire, and she pressed her lips back against Sarah's with suitable eagerness, making sure the other woman knew exactly how much she wanted her from the force of the kiss. She felt the outline of Sarah's breast beneath her gown, and it sent a thrill through her own body unlike any she had ever felt before; Cora wanted the other woman out of her clothes, and this time she knew exactly what she was doing, moving her hands to the buttons and making quick work of the top few.

She thought suddenly of the bathtub, and of the towels that Sarah had placed down in an effort just to make her mistress feel marginally safer, and nearly cried all over again. Her hands halted their pursuit of hot, bare flesh and instead cupped the other woman's cheeks. Leaning in, Cora kissed her with more tenderness than she'd ever shown her in ten long years of service. She wanted, _needed_, her to know how much this would mean to her, no matter how it ended or if it happened again, or if she ended up on a ship back to America in disgrace, though she'd prefer to avoid the latter if she could help it. There was no pulling back now.

Despite the well of lust that was being dragged from her, Sarah felt her heart twang at Cora's tender kisses, softer and deeper than anything she'd felt in her life. This was not a woman who was unsure of her intentions, though she might not be too happy about her sudden lust for a maid but Sarah decided to worry about that later; this time there was nothing on god's green earth that was going to prevent Sarah from taking the other woman to the bed and ravishing her silly. Any possible indecision melted away in Cora's forceful kisses and eager touch. Right now all she wanted was to feel Cora's skin next to her own and show her how much she truly cared for her.

She'd already managed to undo half her dress and Sarah couldn't help but smirk to herself - it seemed the Countess was a fast learner, she have her doing it as quickly as she could with a little more practice. Because Sarah also knew that this was not the end of it. Maybe this would never be a full blown affair but his lordship was going away and now Cora knew she could turn to her, Sarah knew she would do it again. And she looked forward to it. For now, though, she was in the moment.

Cora's hand had reached her breast, in what would have been an imitation of Sarah's own movement from the night before, but for the dress in the way. She really did hate this thing sometimes! Without much preamble, and without breaking the kiss for a moment Sarah fiddled with the rest of the buttons, undoing them nimbly before pulling the thing apart slightly, showing Cora where the gap was to tug wordlessly and hoping she got the message. She seemed to want it off nearly as much as Sarah did and as she herself was already considerably less clad than Sarah was, she supposed it was understandable.

In her immediate haze of lust Sarah had lost her senses and focused on the pleasure of kissing the other woman, but now her mind returned and she remembered the little tricks she had used last night to great success and the many more she was itching to try. As Cora's hands went back to her dress, Sarah used one to run her fingers through Cora's hair, just low enough that she could brush her thumb over the spot under her ear, and the other grazed lightly over her side before settling on her breast. She felt the soft weight in her palm and rubbed a calloused thumb across the nipple, creating a firm rhythm.

With Sarah having removed the majority of the obstacles, Cora's fingers began to immediately attack the final clasp with greater vigour. It was astonishing, really, how much she - the Countess of Grantham - lusted after her lady's maid, who only a day ago had scarcely been a friend to her. But the failed pregnancy had changed all of that, and Sarah's incomparable tenderness in the aftermath of such tragedy had forever transformed the way Cora looked at the other woman.

Cora wasn't entirely sure how fondness had turned to _desire_ (she imagined it was most likely the fault of her foolish husband), but she didn't mind. It didn't really matter how it had happened after all; she wanted Sarah regardless. And even if Robert charged into her bedroom come morning, declared his intention to stay at home, and proceeded to make mad, passionate love to her, Cora would not regret this glorious afternoon. Besides, once Robert was gone, she fully expected it would happen again.

It was becoming increasingly hard to think, with Sarah's fingers exploring breast and _oh god_ she had found the spot again. Fumbling with the remaining clasp of Sarah's dress, she felt it come undone with a measure of satisfaction and smiled against the other woman's lips. The heavy black material pooled around Sarah's waist, and, for the first time since either of their embraces began, Cora finally had access to the tempting flesh beneath. This time she could feel the outline of a hard peak pressing through the delicate chemise that she herself had given to the woman, and dragged her thumb over it in an imitation of Sarah's touch. The sound that came from Sarah's lips was worth all of the agonising over consequences, and she wanted to hear so much more.

Sarah gasped against Cora's neck, tangling her fingers further into the locks, as the other woman dragged a silken soft finger across the chemise, unerringly finding precisely the right spot. If Cora kept up this instinctive knowledge, Sarah was sure she would be a puddle by the end of this. Did Cora know what she was doing to her? She was certain that her own administrations were certainly hitting the right spots but she was, after all, just a lady's maid and Cora was unlikely to understand how meaningful the touches were. She was the Countess of Grantham; just the thought of being touched by her in this way had nearly pushed her to breaking point - having it actually happen was beyond words. She would be here again and the thought thrilled her and pushed her to greater heights of passion.

She reached blindly for the remaining article of Cora's clothes, her underwear, and dragged her fingers slowly across the point where material and flesh met, tantalising her with the promise of going lower. Sarah was greatly enjoying the thought of following the path of the stockings again without having any restraint and a thrill went through her at the thought of what she might be permitted to do during the dressing and undressing of her ladyship in future.

She kissed her tenderly, trying to express to the other woman how much it meant that she was willing to go through with this now, to allow herself to be loved completely. Sarah thought that she should feel pathetic really, so desperate for the Countess of bloody Grantham to touch her, as though the woman were something special. But she didn't feel like that; neither did she feel triumph in the way she imagined Thomas had, at getting one of 'that lot' into bed.

Instead she felt an overwhelming affection for this woman, a protectiveness that had been born after the bath incident, coupled with years of devotion, and it made her nothing short of happy. There was no pretence about this relationship - they were half-way to making love already and may do again in the future but Cora would never ask anything of her that she wasn't glad to give and she knew that Cora was hardly going to run away with her. She didn't want her to anyway; she was quite content with the thought of being here and having Cora to herself in moments like this.

She dragged her fingers lazily across the silken material now, drawing circular patterns with her fingers as she felt the other woman move against her.

"Tell me what you want me to do m'lady."

Cora almost laughed at that. Tell her what to do, as if it was that easy, as if Cora was an expert! Surely Sarah knew what she wanted even better than she did - isn't that what Thomas had said? Surely she could feel the heat coming from her centre and the wetness soaking increasingly through the delicate silk?

Thank the Lord - she thought, with a sliver of amusement - that Sarah did her laundry.

As she considered the question, she focused her lust and her energy on drawing those delicious sounds from Sarah's lips and drew the other woman's nipple between her fingers and teased it, rolling it lightly as she pressed her lips to the soft flesh of Sarah's neck. What _did_ Cora wanted? She barely even knew what she was doing! She had kissed Rosamund once, but that hardly amounted to a wealth of experience, but then perhaps Sarah hadn't had much either? It seemed unlikely though; this was not the touch of a woman who had never done this before.

Cora released a whimper as Sarah's finger dragged over the silken undergarment, squirming against her hand, the movement immediately breaking her focus on her maid's pleasure. God, she was practically like jelly, and she wasn't even naked yet. Cora could hardly bear the slowness of their coming together; she and Robert would be on the bed right now, and he would be driving inside her. A part of her wanted the slowness, if only to ensure that this experience never ended, but the rest of her - the majority of her, even - needed so much more. She needed these nightclothes off, and she needed to be touched, really touched, now.

"Please," she whispered, and met Sarah's eyes. "I want you to touch me."

It was the final piece of conformation she needed. The urge to become more forcefully passionate had been building for a while but she hadn't wanted to push too hard in case Cora grew skittish and changed her mind. She couldn't stand that; although really if the Countess was half as far gone as she was then no power on this earth would make her stop.

She immediately slid her fingers deftly beneath the silken material, feeling the heat coming from Cora as she allowed them to dance lower until eventually settling at the very top of her inner thigh. She teased the other woman for a moment, easing her legs slightly apart and feeling the moisture that had gathered there. She felt a stab of pride - she had done this to the Countess of Grantham and she planned to do so much more.

Sarah shuddered as Cora's lips touched her skin and her fingers began to tease her through the thin chemise and she wondered vaguely exactly how much touching Cora would want to do in return. She had obviously not spent nights huddled together with other girls for warmth, both at the Orphanage and later, when she had been a junior housemaid, eagerly exploring the pleasures of the female form with her employer. Perhaps Cora could manage _this_ because, the swell of the flesh beneath it aside, she had managed with nipples before.

She pushed two fingers inside Cora's hot sex and felt a twinge in her own at the thought of how wet the other woman was for her. This was something that neither of them could deny, proof positive that this whole thing was real and really happening, something Sarah had scarcely believed the previous night and ever moments before. She was slick and red hot and she wanted her. With her thumb she added pressure to the spot she knew would give Cora some relief as her fingers continued their rubbing motion.

She was going to have her for the first time like this, standing up and moaning, before she had even shed her boots.

It was all Cora could do to stop herself from crying out with the force of her pleasure. Her head fell back, her lips parted, as her hair fell freely around her shoulders. Instead, she released a breathless moan, unable to silence herself but unwilling to risk an outright shriek of satisfaction. If she did, somebody would be sure to hear, and - sleeping with her lady's maid aside - Cora did not like flirting with scandal. Rosamund could do as she pleased with whomever she pleased, but Cora would not be responsible for the downfall of the Crawley name.

God, it had never been like this before. Robert had never lavished such devotion on her sex, he had never touched her quite like this, so reverently, so dedicated to her pleasure at the cost of his own. And oh _god_ Sarah knew what she was doing. If she'd had the mental capacity, she would question the other woman's previous experience, but at this moment she could feel nothing, think of _nothing_, but the other woman's fingers dancing over her heat as if they had been born to do just that.

She was _so_ good that Cora felt a momentary stab of regret, mixed with something else…nervousness? She wasn't sure. She wanted to offer Sarah just as much pleasure as she received; she wanted to see her fall apart in desire just as she was causing Cora to right now. Just yesterday, Cora would have laughed at the thought of feeling inferior to her lady's maid, but in this exquisite moment of pleasurable torture, it concerned her deeply. She could only hope she proved to be a quick study.

"Sarah, wait," Cora breathed suddenly, and her hand moved to cover the other woman's, effectively halting her caress. It occurred to her, in a moment of guilt, that Sarah might take this as a sign of her hesitation, and moved quickly to reassure her, pressing their lips together in a tender embrace.

"I'd like very much for us to be more comfortable," she whispered. Her eyes darted in the direction of the bed. This meant too much to be rushed, for their first encounter to culminate in Cora coming apart standing up in the middle of the room.

The momentary clench that had enclosed her heart at Cora's words evaporated as quickly as it had come and she smiled around the kiss. Sarah wasn't going to argue. She suppressed the urge to grab the other woman and launch them both onto the bed at a flying leap. It would be most unbecoming and the way she felt at the moment probably wouldn't be especially graceful. Instead she linked their hands together, loving the idea of Cora getting her own scent all over her hand.

She supposed it would be more appropriate - the bed - for this first time. Sarah wasn't sentimental enough to bring the word 'special' into this but she wanted to utterly ravish the other woman and the best place for that would be the bed. She took a step away from her ladyship, keeping their hands linked, and spent a moment simply admiring the body in front of her - she really was exquisite. The flush had spread across her breasts alarmingly and her nipples had a rosy hue that made Sarah want to do nothing but take them in her mouth. But first things first.

With her free hand she pulled at the remaining buckles on her dress and pushed it down her hips. Cora's touch was far too distracting and she knew she'd pounce on the other woman the second they were on the bed. She felt a stab of self-consciousness. Cora had never, ever seen her like this, god only knew, no one had seen her like this for a long time. She knew she had no hope of competing but hoped that she at least wouldn't disgrace herself next to Cora.

She pulled on the other woman's hand slightly, tugging her closer for a soft kiss, edging them closer to the bed slowly, hoping that she had gauged the room correctly and that at some point her legs would hit the side of the bed.

Eagerly, Cora returned Sarah's kiss, part of her mourning the loss of her fingers from her sex, and the other half aching to reach the bed and continue. Every step, every kiss, brought them closer and Cora moaned into Sarah's mouth. Oh god, the images that were running through her head, of their bodies entwined and Sarah's fingers and - lord help her - her mouth, working her into a state of frenzied explosion. Just a few more steps and they'd reach the bed… she could feel the material of the sheets brushing the back of her legs now.

Cora stopped for a moment, realising that Sarah was more uncovered than she had seen her in ten long years of service. Her maid had seen her undressed so many times but Sarah had never been anything other than utterly professional in her attire. But here and now she was beautiful, her skin was a tantalising mystery, still half-hidden under under her clothes, and Cora was eager to explore.

"You're beautiful, Sarah," Cora murmured truthfully, sliding her hand to rest on the gentle swell of the other woman's hip.

"Though we may need to do something about this," she said coyly. Cora's hand slid from Sarah's hip, gathering the material of the chemise and dragging it slowly up the other woman's thigh, careful to intentionally brush her fingers against the flesh as she went. Slowly, painfully so, she slid her hand back down, leaving the material of the chemise bunched around her hip, and brought her fingers into contact with the thin stockings. "And these definitely _have _togo."

Her eyes fell on the corset and she sucked in a breath, once again cursing her lack of experience. _That_ was something no doubt _far_ beyond her capabilities! For god's sake, she'd had difficulty opening a window last night! How on earth was she supposed to open this thing? It couldn't be that hard though, surely? And she was going to have to learn after all. She smiled as her free hand brushed over it, "I might need some help with this, but it's certainly coming off."

Sarah shuddered at Cora's touch, boggling that the woman had made such short work of making her tremble; the air hit her the bare part of her thighs, unable to cool them but making her flesh goose-pimple slightly. She blushed at Cora's words, turning her face away to hide. Beautiful indeed! What utter nonsense. She was plain, at best, she'd even been accused of being ugly in her youth and being exposed to this beauty for ten years had not helped. She mumbled under her breath, "_You're_ beautiful," and immediately blushed further. She leaned in to kiss the other woman deeply, hoping that the Cora wouldn't notice her embarrassment.

She wondered at the best method for getting rid of the stockings. Somehow she couldn't see Cora kneeling down to do it for her and she still had her boots too. The sudden image flashing into her mind of Cora being in that position nearly made her lose herself. Tangling her fingers in those curls as her mouth and soft, soft lips-

Winding her arms around Cora's neck and pulling their bodies as close together as possible, Sarah spun their positions around and, tentatively, lowered herself to sit the bed. She leaned forward and, hoping to god Cora wouldn't find it impertinent - although god only knew what would be considered impertinent at this stage - she brought her lips to Cora's breast, softly kissing the skin before latching onto a nipple with enthusiasm. As she grazed her hand across Cora's side lightly the other hand was occupied ridding herself of her troublesome shoes.

Oh god Cora had not expected this. The pleasure that practically exploded through her body at the touch was exquisite, tendrils of it curling through every inch of her, filling her veins and her bones and her blood and breathing brand new life into her. She felt _alive_.

Sliding her fingers into Sarah's hair, she held her gently in place against her breast, tiny mewls of pleasure escaping her lips helplessly as she shuddered at the passionate caress. Her fingers lightly massaged the other woman's scalp, simultaneously encouraging and reassuring. Her touch was entirely welcome and her presence a necessity, and Cora would not make the mistake of pushing this woman away ever again.

"If I didn't think you were beautiful, we wouldn't be here."

Sarah couldn't express to Cora through words how much such a statement meant to her. She who had never, ever been called beautiful. Who'd never been looked at and touched like this before. She was far from being a virgin, but she'd never been looked at as though she were _this _beautiful and worth loving. Perhaps Mickey, but she'd been so much younger then. She felt the blush rise up again but didn't look away this time.

"Thank you," she choked out, wishing to god all things were as simple as removing her boots and taking a nipple in her mouth. She tried to smile but found her emotions over-taking her; she didn't want to cry, not now, of all times. What if Cora came to her senses and stopped because she'd done something as pathetic as _crying_ over being called beautiful? She couldn't live with herself if she perpetrated the end of all this utter bliss.

She fought against it and took the soft hand at her cheek, kissing her palm and dragging her lips over the pulse-point as her free hand reached to untie Cora's underwear. Really, nudity was essential now, although she couldn't help but notice that she was still her her chemise, corset, stockings and underwear. She smiled to herself, supposing that she'd have to do it herself. Breaking the contact with Cora she leaned back slightly, never removing her gaze from Cora's as she quickly unclasped her corset, smirking slightly as her ladyship followed the movements - she suspected that next time Cora might attempt this herself. She dropped her corset to the floor.

She pulled her chemise out from underneath her seated frame, Cora still observing her, her mouth half-open and gasping, and left it bunched at her hips for Cora to deal with later - she had a feeling that the Countess might want to do _something_ for herself. Rather bold perhaps, but things were getting critical. She reached for her hair first; she'd always felt better when her hair was down, having it up aged her and when the curls fell about her shoulders she almost felt beautiful. Sarah leaned forward, the temptation of Cora's flesh being too much for her and she had latched onto the other nipple before the Countess could stop her.

She trailed her mouth downwards, brushing over her naval before pressing her lips against the hot, wet material of Cora's underwear. These definitely had to go. She dragged her tongue against the seam, knowing exactly what her tongue was pressing against and wrapping her hand around Cora's soft, round backside, pulling her ever closer.

Cora released a breath that quite suddenly transformed into a moan as Sarah's tongue instinctively sought her most sensitive spot. God, but she was incredible. Sinking her fingers into Sarah's loose hair, she delighted in the feel of the soft locks underneath the flesh of her palms. If this how good it felt to simply have Sarah's tongue caress her through her underwear, she wasn't sure her body would be able to withstand the pleasure of having the woman directly worship her sex. Trailing her fingers over Sarah's shoulders and back, she moved her fingers to the ties holding her chemise together and began to tug, determined to have the woman naked and spread out in front of her.

It really wasn't fair, Cora suspected, that such attention was being lavished upon her aching body and Sarah's went un-worshipped. Breathing in deeply, summoning her courage, she gently placed her hands to Sarah's shoulders and pushed her back against the bed. She felt rather than saw Sarah's shock at such a bold action on her mistress' part and smirked lightly.

"Really O'Brien, I thought you knew better than to underestimate me," she said coyly, her lips descending to pepper Sarah's throat with eager kisses. At the same time Cora slowly raised her leg, pressing her knee purposefully between Sarah's parted thighs and against her throbbing core.

Sarah hadn't been expecting this. The sudden pressure on her aching centre made her gasp and, closing her eyes, she surrendered to Cora's touch utterly. The kisses on her throat made the rate of her heart increase dramatically and she reached up to tangle her fingers in Cora's wondrous curls, thinking how it felt almost like a treat to be able to ruffle them rather than make them neat.

She felt a slight shame in herself that, after everything, she had underestimated Cora. She had thought Cora would welcome being made love to but perhaps not give too much thought to the prospect of reciprocating these touches. Sarah had been perfectly happy with that arrangement, feeling it was enough for her to see the other woman in such a lustful state but as Cora rubbed her knee against her sex she was delighted to be proved wrong.

She really was so very beautiful. The smirk she gave her sent shivers through Sarah's body and the promise of what Cora seemed to want to do...well words wouldn't form so she allowed Cora's words to roll over her - one in particular.

O'Brien again. She smirked, this time it was not indicative of an unwelcome return to their professional state but rather Cora all but purred it at her and it sent a glorious warmth through her entire body, making her throb even more against Cora's knee.

She lifted her head slightly to kiss the side of the woman's face and all but whispered.

"I love it when you say my name like that."

The mischievous glint in Cora's eyes told her that it had, perhaps, not been the wisest decision to let that little tidbit be known.

"Oh?"

Cora's face erupted into a gleeful smirk, half-giddy at having a weapon for her arsenal. Really, Sarah made it far too easy, and Cora liked nothing more than having the upper hand in any given situation. She was certainly not above using the titillating information to her deepest advantage and, if the exquisite dampness pressing against her knee was any indication, the tactic was proving to be a supreme success.

"I'll keep that in mind..._O'Brien_," she purred against the other woman's throat, spurred on by the fingers gliding through her locks - it felt so much better to have her touching her hair like this - and the tender press of Sarah's lips against her face. It made her bold, and she pressed her knee more firmly against Sarah's sex, rubbing in a slow, torturous rhythm, utterly delighted by the noises dragged from her throat.

Cora smirked as she hovered over Sarah's body, hair spilling over pale shoulders, looking for all intents and purposes like an Amazonian warrior contemplating her prey. Her fingers crept slowly over Sarah's stomach and higher, until her hand was able to cup the warmth of the other woman's breast, squeezing firmly.

"Is there anything else that I should know?"

The smirk widened as her lips trailed in a burning line from Sarah's throat to her delicate collarbone. And then, peeling back the material at her chest, she sucked in a little breath at her first glimpse of Sarah's pale breasts. She hadn't known what she'd been expecting; she had never given much thought to the other woman's breast in the past. But they were exquisite, and Cora _needed_ to touch them.

"Beautiful," she breathed again, before dipping her head to latch her lips around one dusky nipple, her tongue lavishing attention on the hard peak.

The first touch of Cora's lips on the Sarah's pale, tender flesh made her throb with need and she wrapped a stockinged leg around the other woman's waist, pulling her ever closer. She felt like she could never be close enough to Cora's gloriously soft skin and her passion for the other woman had not abated since the previous night. For a moment, lying in her bed alone in the middle of the night, she had thought of relieving herself but the first tentative touch to her own trembling flesh had left her feeling wanting and she couldn't go through with it. Now Cora was making her body hum with pleasure and she closed her eyes to savour the feeling, allowing her head to fall back, exposing her neck.

The use of her name made her suck in a breath. Oh dear lord just hearing in future was going to be such exquisite torture. She knew she shouldn't have given that one away quite so quickly but she supposed it was only fair as she did know _so _much about Cora's body already. The woman really was asking to be thoroughly tortured. But for now the attention being lavished upon her breasts was turning her rapidly into a puddle.

Trying to take the other woman off guard she pushed forward slightly, sliding her own leg between Cora's until her thigh was pushing up and she could feel Cora's wet warmth through her own stocking and the silken knickers. Which were somehow still there...she couldn't think why that might be and considered just tearing them off but she retained enough of her senses to remember how difficult stitching silk was and refrained.

She was helpless and couldn't really say she wasn't enjoying being so. She surrendered to Cora's mouth and ran her fingers through the curls again, writhing on the bed underneath the blissful weight of her mistress.

She thought over Cora's provocative words and wondered how long it would be before she died of lust for the Countess. She murmured vague encouragements as a soft tongue lapped at her rock hard nipple and stroked slowly down the other woman's back, finding the spot she knew Cora loved the most in the bath and massaging it.

"You'll just have to find out m'lady."

Cora had no idea what sound she made as Sarah's knee drove up against her throbbing sex, arching above the other woman, spreading her legs wider to accommodate the new exquisite pressure. And then, when Sarah found that exquisitely good spot, she almost came apart. Her words barely registered, but when they did she arched a brow.

_Find out? _That sounded suspiciously like a challenge, and Cora certainly never shied away from a challenge. Grazing the hard peak with her teeth, she set about driving Sarah mad with pleasure, drawing the nipple into her hot, eager mouth. She raised one seeking hand to gently fondle and explore, kneading the other breast with her fingers as her thumb brought her nipple to taut attention.

God, but she could do this all day, just to hear the soft moans escaping from Sarah's lips, and her soft body writhing underneath the weight of hers. The fevered sounds sent a bolt of pleasure straight to Cora's core and she shuddered against the other woman. It wasn't enough though; she needed more. She needed to feel every inch of Sarah's flesh underneath hers. Smiling to herself as Sarah released a moan, Cora circled the waiting left nipple with her tongue and took it into her mouth, sucking lightly at first, then more strongly.

Raising her hand, Cora decided to make matters into her own hands. She slid it, slowly, to rest on the silky material of Sarah's stockings, gliding her hand up the spectacular leg hooked around her waist. Her fingers delicately found the ties and began to pull them gently free.

Cora smirked at Sarah's surprise, momentarily releasing the rock hard nipple.

"I told you I can do some things for myself, Sarah. How else do you think Lord Grantham and I manage our more spontaneous trysts? I can't very well call for you to undress me every time he and I want to do more than talk, can I?"

Cora's tongue was torture and didn't appear to be giving up anytime soon. Sarah's body was aching underneath the other woman's touch and her back arched off the bed into Cora's mouth as breathless moans left her own. The pressure between her thighs was not doing much for the situation and every nerve stood on end at the slightest touch from the Countess. Good grief, she didn't like to think what would happen when the woman finally touched her where she needed it most - her body was already straining with need.

She smiled at Cora's words, lifting one leg slightly higher to make things easier for Cora's new-found undressing skills, at the same time pushing her other one up against Cora's centre, rubbing her knee slowly against the warmth she found there. She didn't want to make thinks too easy after all.

Sarah smirked wickedly.

"Feel free to do so from now on m'lady."

She kept her voice steady but it would have wavered moments after when Cora slid one stocking off her leg. Christ she'd never been touched quite so thoroughly by anyone, let alone her employer. She didn't like to think how Lord Grantham coped with his wife's more passionate nature.

Sarah reached down to graze her fingers over Cora's soft inner thigh, enjoying the luxury of being able to caress it utterly and without censure. She slid her fingers further up, until they were pressing lightly over the point where Cora's sex met her knee. Sarah pulled at the waist of the - she was sure - now ruined silk and sitting up began pulling them, slightly awkwardly given their angle, down Cora's long, creamy legs.

"I'm quite happy to undress you."

"You're quite happy to undress me in preparation for a tryst with my husband?"

Cora's tone was light, casual even, but inside her heart was nearly pounding out of her chest. They were so close now; she had no clothes left on, no barrier holding Sarah back from ravishing every inch of her body. She blushed at the other woman's scrutiny, truly baffled by Sarah's attention. There was nothing particularly special about her, besides her fortune and her title. But the other woman was looking at her as if she had seen light for the first time in her life.

Suddenly unable to bear the stare, Cora leaned forward to recapture the other woman's lips with frantic ferociousness, lightly teasing her lower lip with her tongue to demand entry. As soon as it was granted, Cora wasted no time, and tangled their tongues together as her still trembling hand began to undo the other stocking. She didn't rush the action, letting her fingers stroke the inside of Sarah's thigh, before allowing them to creep higher to tease the fabric of her underwear.

She thought it grossly unfair that she should be naked and not Sarah, and therefore doubled her efforts, her thumb pressing against the area sure to drive Sarah wild as the other hand dragged the stocking slowly down, nails dragging lightly over the flesh of Sarah's leg.

Sarah spread her legs slightly at Cora's touch, moaning wantonly into her mistress' demanding mouth as the woman removed her final stocking; Cora's touch sent a current to her core and she almost sobbed with the pleasure of it all. Suddenly Cora was pressing down somewhere rather critical and Sarah felt the passion utterly overtake her for good. Using her legs for leverage, and still battling her tongue fiercely with Cora's, she rolled them over on the bed, clearly taking the Countess off-guard.

She broke the kiss and smiled down at Cora, casually pulling her chemise completely over her head, suddenly aware that for her own knickers there was nothing at all between her and Cora. She breathed heavily, tracing her hand down the other woman's body, allowing her nails to graze over hard nipples and soft stomach, drinking Cora in with her eyes and sighing with pleasure simply at her good fortune. How could she possibly have been so miserable only a few hours ago?

Sarah considered Cora's words. Their was brief stab of jealousy at his lordship's name but Sarah suppressed it - she hardly expected Cora to renounce her husband now did she? She pushed him from her mind, he wasn't here because he had been foolish enough to argue with this goddess and now Cora was hers for the taking.

"A different kind of tryst perhaps..."

She lowered her tongue to Cora's neck and sucked on her favourite spot. The Countess's guttural sighs pushed her further and she dragged her fingers slowly towards Cora's throbbing centre, she could see how wet the other woman was and her lust escalated. She gently rubbed her fingers through the wetness before slowly, agonisingly pushing one, then two, fingers inside the other woman, gently building up a rhythm as her other hand massaged a warm breast and her tongue and lips remained on Cora's neck.

Cora shook in anticipation as one of Sarah's hands slid between her thighs, a series of muted moans and whimpers escaping her lips as - oh thank God - her lips became reacquainted with that torturous spot, reducing her to little more than a puddle beneath her lover. She could see what was coming, and had known that at some point in their love-making, they'd come to this. But, she thought, as Sarah pushed a finger into her welcoming heat, she'd had no idea it could ever be this good. And when she added a _second _finger, Cora found she could not suppress a ragged moan from escaping her lips, quickly muffling it with her own hand and biting down as her hips arched up from the bed.

"God Sarah," Cora groaned breathlessly, rocking wantonly against her touch, needing it harder, deeper. She didn't know how much she could take of this. It was exquisite, and it was torture. Every part of her body was alive, shuddering underneath the other woman's expert touch, her thrusting fingers and hot, eager lips. In the very back of her head, Cora briefly worried that Sarah's lips might leave a mark on her neck. And whilst it occurred to her that she did not mind one bit being branded by this beautiful, sensual woman, Robert might; if he ever came to his senses. But it all felt too good to care, and Cora embraced it, sliding her fingers into Sarah's thick, loose curls.

The other hand glided over Sarah's bare back, exploring the smooth supple terrain it encountered. Sliding it underneath the knickers and over the gentle swell of Sarah's buttocks, she squeezed reverently. She could touch this flesh all day; indeed, she could spend day after day after day making love to this woman, just like this, and never tire of the pleasure. Dragging her hand lower, it finally reached its target. Cora rubbed her fingers tenderly over the other woman's slick folds, breathing in at just how splendidly wet Sarah was - for her, Cora thought, through the haze of pleasure. Sarah was wet for _her_. The thought sent a bolt of pleasure through her lust-ravaged body and her hips jerked against Sarah's fingers.

"A different kind?" She could barely form words. "You mean something like this?"

As Cora's fingers found her centre and she moaned, pushing herself down into Cora's hand and rolling her hips. But Sarah was determined not to lose herself just yet, she wanted this woman to be a quivering mess as soon as possible and if she started taking her own pleasure now, she'd lose focus, and Cora really did make the most delightful noises. They sent spasms through her body and spurred her on further, curving her fingers inside the other woman and hitting the spot deep inside her that would drive Cora mad. She lavished attention in it, stroking her deep inside as she pulsed her fingers.

She fought the urge to mark Cora's neck, it really would have been the most beautiful reminder but she thought better of it. It would hardly be an especially subtle gesture.

"Hmmm," she mumbled against her neck. "P'rhaps I should find 'nother spot before I mark you for life."

She dragged her lips across Cora's collarbone and slowly down her body. She wondered if Cora would realise what she was about to do until the last minute; on her way down Cora arched her back slightly and the temptation to latch onto a nipple was too much, she ceased her journey for the pleasure of capturing it between her lips. She lapped at the hard peak with her tongue, maintaining the movement of her fingers until the other woman's breathy moans reached fever pitch.

Smirking Sarah released the nipple and trailed across Cora's stomach, eventually resting her head on the other woman's inner thigh, drowning in the beauty before her. She licked her lips and looked up, locking eyes with Cora and raising her eyebrow slightly, merrily quirking her lip in triumph.

Not removing her gaze Sarah leaned in and applied her tongue to her Cora's trembling centre.

At the gloriously unexpected contact, it was all Cora could do not to scream, and she hung onto the silken bedsheets for dear life. She writhed and trembled and shuddered underneath the ministrations of Sarah's tongue, and her body practically lifted from the bed as her lips latched around the throbbing nub, chanting senseless nonsense peppered with the other woman's name.

It was the middle of the afternoon, and the likelihood of anybody hearing them was _high_, but Cora could barely process coherent thought, let alone exercise rationality. She no longer made even a token effort to stifle her moans, her voice and words losing all cohesion as the pleasure began to build deep inside her. Cora spread her legs wider, inviting Sarah to explore deeper as she rocked her hips against the touch, clenching and unclenching the silken sheets inside her fists in an effort to exercise some feeble control over her wanton reactions.

Did Sarah have any idea what she was doing to her? From the look in her eyes, Cora would bet her entire fortune that she did and lord help her, the image of Sarah's beautiful face buried between her thighs almost brought her to the brink. She nearly came, right there, right then.

Sliding her fingers into Sarah's hair Cora grasped the locks as gently as she could, throwing her head back against the pillows in abandon. She was so close now; the slow torturous burn had become an all out blaze, ripping relentlessly through her puddle of a body. She was utterly lost, and if this was how lost felt, she never wanted to be found again.

Before she even had a chance to warn Sarah, the pleasure spiked and Cora exploded, releasing a cry that would have certainly been heard, had she not bit down brutally on her lip. Her back arched from the bed, before collapsing back against the sheets, panting helplessly for lost breath.

For a long moment, Cora couldn't speak, before she finally met the other woman's eyes and her smug, satisfied smirk. Sarah's lips glistened with Cora's own juices, and she felt something stir inside her.

This was not over by half.


	10. Now I'm Here

Sarah lay her head gently on Cora's thigh - the better to observe her - and thought she could have come right there, watching Cora reaching her peak. It was probably the most glorious thing she would ever be privileged to witness. Her eyes wide Sarah dipped her head back down and lapped at the other woman until she ceased to tremble. She knew one thing in that moment for sure - she would never, _ever _tire of doing that!

She looked up at the other woman and smirked with glee; she had made this woman utterly come apart and she felt oddly powerful. Cora might belong to her husband, might be eternally devoted to him but in this moment she was all Sarah's to do with whatever she pleased. And she wanted her again. The lust had seared through her again at the sight of Cora reposing on the bed, breathing heavily, breasts heaving and face flushed. She looked magnificent and Sarah wanted to live between her legs, giving her endless pleasure.

She traced a hand lazily over Cora's hipbone and kissed her way back up to her stomach.

"I look forward to doing that again m'lady..."

She reached up to link her hand with Cora's, crawling back up to kiss her deeply, finding it unimaginably erotic that she had Cora's scent on her lips as she did so.

"No time like the present..."

She shot down and latched onto a nipple, eliciting a moan that nearly pushed her over the edge.

Still half-stunned by pleasure, reeling from a peak unlike anything she had ever felt before, Cora cried out at the feel of Sarah's lips surrounding her nipple, arching once again as her body shuddered and rode wave after wave of blissful gratification. Although Cora had long lost the ability to think particularly straight, she felt a sudden swell of indignation as Sarah began to seduce her again. Oh no. This _certainly _wouldn't do.

Taking advantage of Sarah's distraction, she pushed at her chest, using the momentum to flip her over and reverse their positions. Now, draped over the top of half of Sarah's body, Cora smirked down lazily at her maid in smug satisfaction.

"I think," Cora purred, nuzzling her nose against the hard nub at the centre of Sarah's soft breast, "that you're getting _awfully _ahead of yourself, O'Brien."

Her body pressed so closely to the other woman's, Cora felt the shudder of pleasure that ran through her at the murmur of her name. She slid her hand to Sarah's supple thigh, squeezing lightly before trailing it higher. She curled her fingers around the hem and pulled. She watched in glee as the material dragged slowly down Sarah's legs, revealing the beauty underneath that practically called to her.

Unable to suppress a smirk, Cora drew Sarah's nipple briefly inside of her mouth, suckling for an agonisingly long second before she released it, spreading Sarah's legs apart. She could feel the other woman trembling in anticipation of her actions and Cora didn't even try to hide her wicked smile as her fingers found the waiting wetness between her thighs, rubbing over the slick, aching folds.

"I think somebody has forgotten her place," Cora remarked before pushing two fingers deep inside Sarah's enveloping heat. She was nothing if not a fast learner, and curved her fingers inside her lover, exploring the delicious depths in eager fascination. Listening attentively to each and every moan and gasp and hiss, her fingers responded to the delicious symphony of sound accordingly, determined to drag Sarah kicking and screaming to the brink if she had to, needing to see her fall apart at her touch.

Unimaginable pleasure coursed through Sarah at Cora's touch. She hadn't expected Cora to just lie there and be made love to again - well not quite this soon anyway - but she had not expected the Countess to be quite so forceful, she really was full of surprises. She surrendered utterly to Cora's touch and threw her head back into the bed, grasping madly at Cora's back, careful not to hurt her, but needing to touch the other woman. She was muttering almost inaudibly under her breath, and she thought Cora might just be able to make out her own name and pleas for more amidst the low murmur.

Swimming somewhere in the back of her mind, behind the haze of lust, Sarah wondered if Cora would notice she was far from being virginal, as was probably expected of a spinster lady's maid, or indeed if the Countess would care. The thoughts vanished rapidly when Cora bent her fingers just so, grazing over - Oh Christ! She was a fast learner! - a tender spot and making Sarah practically lift of the bed as her back curved.

Their bodies were so close together now, practically entwined as Cora began a sublime rhythm and purred in her ear. Oh god it was wrong! It was so wrong for her to find Cora's words so erotic: it should have made her indignant, angry even - Cora was talking about her subservience, about her _place _in the pecking order, but - god help her - all it did was make her tighten around Cora's fingers and angle her hips so the other woman could delve deeper.

She cried out at the building feeling, trying desperately to stifle the noise with her free hand, but unable to prevent a few breathy moans escaping. She was so close now.

At the delicious sounds escaping from Sarah's lips, Cora nearly came undone all over again. But it was absolutely nothing compared to watching the other woman's body arch from the bed, twisting and writhing at her touch in a state of supreme ecstasy. Sarah's lips parted in pleasure and her head tossed back, Cora was certain she had never seen anything more arousing in her entire life.

Spurred on by Sarah's moans and the whisperings of her own name, Cora slipped a third finger inside the other woman's wet heat, driving the digits up in a maddening rhythm. The feel of Sarah's tight centre clenching around her fingers and the press of her soft supple body against Cora's side was enough to send another bolt of lust through her own recovering body, and it was all she could do not to touch _herself._But Sarah's pleasure came first and Cora lovingly applied her thumb to the throbbing nub between her lover's thighs, stroking in agonisingly slow circles.

Cora smirked to herself as Sarah released a guttural moan and made sure to hit that one marvellous spot inside her again. And again and again.

"I want you to come, O'Brien," she whispered, in her delicious purr of a voice, and slowly sucked Sarah's lobe into her hot, eager mouth, suckling leisurely as her free hand palmed a soft, warm breast.

Sarah was so close now, Cora could feel it. And she wanted to bring her crashing over the edge.

Sarah closed her eyes and pulled the soft, warm body close against her; she felt the burning lust strike her sex with force and clung onto Cora fiercely, pulling her closer. The woman had indeed been a very fast learner and had reduced her to a muttering creature capable of nothing but lust in a matter of moments; there would be no living with her after this.

She'd told Cora about how she loved her name being purred...she wondered how long it would take for Cora to realise what her voice did to her the rest of the time. The low timbre rumbled through her and she moaned helplessly, utterly at the mercy of Cora and prepared to be a willing slave to the American woman's whims. And fingers.

And her words...her words were the very last things Sarah expected her to say and they pushed her over the edge utterly. She stifled a cry as she came hard against Cora's long fingers, pulsing around them uncontrollably and rocking her hips with abandon to draw out every last spasm as the orgasm shot through her like an electric bolt, sending every inch of her momentarily numb.

She went limp underneath Cora, her limbs twitching from the aftermath of such a glorious moment. Christ! She certainly hadn't expected that to happen this afternoon! She didn't move her head for a moment, merely revelled in the exquisite feeling of Cora having made love to her with such tenderness and obvious delight and had more than a few ideas about what she might do next to the other woman. She wasn't quite done after all, and the Countess usually spent ages in her bath - nobody would miss them.

Regaining her breath Sarah finally opened her eyes to be greeted, not by the smug expression to end all smug expressions, as she had imagined, but rather a look of utter wonder in Cora's face. She was looking at her as though she had never seen her before and Sarah reached up to grasp her face, pulling her down for a searing kiss.

Cora moaned against Sarah's lips, still tasting herself against the swollen flesh and wanting more, pressing her mouth eagerly against the other woman's and tangling their tongues together in an almost desperate embrace, full of lust and need and god, this woman was beautiful. Goodness, seeing her come apart...Robert groaned and roared and proceeded to collapse on top of her. Sarah was altogether more elegant, more beautiful, and Cora wanted to see her come again and again and again.

She wasn't done yet; she knew they had time. Cora loved bathing – she loved the lap of the water against her body, the delicate sponge against her skin and, in retrospect, Sarah's reverent fingers sliding over her flesh. Or, at least, she _had_ loved bathing, until it had culminated in the biggest loss of her life. But she refused to think about that now. Not with Sarah's achingly beautiful body crushed against hers and their hot, seeking tongues dancing together. She _had _loved bathing, and everybody knew Lady Grantham could spend an entire afternoon submerged, as long as the water stayed warm. And she was banking on this now.

Pulling back, utterly breathless, Cora met her eyes. Her breasts rose and fell and shuddered with every laboured breath, and Cora drew Sarah closer by wrapping one long leg around her hip and pulling her flush against her body.

"You are so beautiful," she whispered, echoing her earlier words, but really she'd had utterly no idea just _how _beautiful Sarah O'Brien could be, flushed and hot and high on pleasure. She raised a hand to slowly, delicately push back Sarah's ruffled hair before leaning in to regain possession of her lips with renewed vigour.

She pushed the woman back, her eyes flashing in hunger as she settled her body above Sarah's. Once hadn't been enough and Cora needed so much more. She trailed her lips over the other woman's neck, tongue lavishing attention on the sensitive pulse point, before moving down her trembling body, refusing to be deterred, until she reached the hot, slick flesh of her inner thighs.

Looking up, she met Sarah's eyes, seeing an amusing mixture of understanding, alarm and desire crossing over her face. She knew _exactly _what Cora was about to do.

"I'm going to enjoy this, O'Brien," she commented before her tongue snaked out and dragged over the flush, slick folds of Sarah's sex. She moaned at the taste, her own heat spasming, unlike anything she'd ever tasted before. She was sweet and salty and tasted like...oh god, Cora didn't even know where to begin but it was _good _and she needed more. She clutched at Sarah's firm thighs, digging her nails in lightly as her tongue utterly worshipped the flushed little nub and her lips drew it into her eager mouth.

Bloody hell, Cora was a fast learner and had her nimble tongue on her swollen nub almost immediately, causing Sarah to whimper with the extremes of her pleasure. She tangled her fingers in Cora's glorious curls and pulled her closer gently, spreading her thighs further to accommodate Cora.

Oh, god, they had hours yet! The whole house would think Cora was just enjoying herself in the bath, accident or not, her ladyship would want to be clean, and no one would call for either of them for a long time, even his lordship didn't like to disturb her in the bath. Sarah had always thought that that her own presence contributed to that more than anything: Cora would not bathe without her presence and Lord Grantham was hardly likely to grope his wife in the bath with another woman present.

Sarah grinned at the top of Cora's head, thinking of what could come next. His lordship might never interrupt his wife's bath but Sarah had a suddenly very clear image in her head of Cora moaning in the bath as her hands roamed all over her.

The pleasure tumbled through her, her whole body to feel better than it had in years, and she held onto the back of Cora's head, moaning her release recklessly, irregardless of others in the house. She gasped and shuddered and finally felt the tension drain from her.

"Christ...I hope yer enjoyed it m'lady, I think I might die if yer never do that again."

She fell back onto the bed, trying desperately to regain her fragile, ragged breath.

"Enjoyed it?" Cora released a soft breathless laugh, utterly radiant as she looked up to Sarah, her hair a glorious mess and her lips and chin sticky and covered in Sarah. She was far too happy and satiated to care, pushing herself up to steal a long, hungry kiss. She poured all of her passion into it, all of her gratitude and emotion and supreme lack of regret that this had happened – that she'd allowed herself to love Sarah and be loved in return. It had been utterly glorious, soul-shatteringly good. And it was by _no _means over yet.

"Darling, I never knew the meaning of enjoyment until today."

Pushing herself up on shaky arms, Cora fell onto the bed beside Sarah, naked and shamelessly so, curling sumptuously against her side. She could scarcely believe that only an hour ago she'd been resisting the idea of loving this woman, when being in her arms like this felt so utterly right. She felt warm and safe and loved, and goodness had she ever felt such pleasure before? Robert had _never _loved her like that, he had never even _kissed _her like Sarah had, with a wealth of passion with seemingly no barriers.

She leaned in quite suddenly, pressing their lips together again as she slid her hand over the curve of Sarah's hip. She was so soft and so beautiful, so womanly, and Cora, with her sharp hips and small breasts and ribs so obvious against her flesh, paled in comparison. But oddly she didn't mind; rather she felt immeasurably proud to have this brilliant, beautiful woman in her arms after having brought her to a glorious climax - one of many to follow, she was sure. She smirked as the thought, trailing her lips over Sarah's jaw and registering the second part of her comment.

"I don't think you have to worry about that, Sarah. I'm certain it's going to happen again within the next hour."

In the wake of her rather exceptional second orgasm Sarah could do little but smile languidly, utterly at ease for the first time in years, and stretch out her limbs, catlike, perhaps not as graceful as Cora but still curving her back with a certain feline grace. She felt Cora curl next to her and couldn't help release a sigh of pleasure.

"An 'our?" Sarah, smirking, rolled them over until she was hovering above Cora, leaning down to kiss her lightly, purposefully allowing her breasts to brush against Cora's teasingly. "Oh the things I could do in an 'our..."

She pulled Cora closer and moaned at their bodies being pressed so closely together. She had never minded her body too much in the past - it seemed to have pleased anyone who'd seen it before - but she felt a right common lump next to this sleek, gorgeous woman. Cora's long legs and tiny bloody waist were exquisite, although secretly Sarah still thought she could stand to eat more - _maybe she'll listen to me now? _- but she had always been a skinny thing. Oh well, she smirked, as long as she was robust enough for what she had planned!

"And 'm glad you've discovered pleasure m'lady," she could scarcely keep the amusement out of her words, she was far too giddily happy to worry about anything but touching Cora. Reaching down she found the her hand and linked their fingers together, marvelling at the softness compared to her own roughed skin. She felt distinctly common next to her and wasn't altogether pleased with the observation but kissed a trail across her neck anyway, alternatively suckling and licking at the flesh until she reached her breasts. Her fingers danced around Cora's thighs at the same time, spreading them easily and testing the warm, wetness with the tips.

"God, you're still so wet," she brought her head up to kiss Cora deeply, tangling their tongues together and groaning at having this goddess underneath her. Sometimes, she thought as Cora whimpered beneath her, one incident made up for a load of others and Sarah had a feeling this might be her one.

She thrust two, then three fingers inside Cora's warm heat and felt Cora groan into her mouth.

At Sarah's comment Cora smiled, meeting her lips with equal ardour and moaning against them as her fingers sank deep inside her, the sound barely smothered by Sarah's hot mouth and exploring tongue. God, what else did she expect, with her exquisite body on top of hers and her lips lavishing attention on her flesh and unbearably sensitive breasts? How could anyone, man or woman, resist such beauty _without _such a reaction? Did Sarah really not know how impressively seductive she was? The idea pained Cora, and she was utterly determined to prove otherwise.

She had no idea how Sarah had amassed such experience, how she'd become such an expert in driving a woman mad with desire. She could have been a _courtesan_ for all Cora knew, but truth be told it didn't matter. As long as kept up this rhythm until she came crashing over the edge. She doubted she would last long, she could already feel the fire start to build and burn deep inside her and Sarah's fingers were _magic_; a few deep thrusts and Sarah's lips on her breasts and she'd shatter. Cora slid her fingers through Sarah's locks, her fingers tingling at the sensation and gripping gently, deepening the kiss and losing herself in Sarah's lips and hands and fingers and _oh god_, how had she already found that spot?

"Sarah!" she whimpered, as her lips jerked free, the need for air far too difficult to ignore. She grasped at her hair, breathing ragged, a flushed and sweaty mess. "Darling _please_, make me come!"

Sarah arched her fingers deep inside Cora, pulsing the beds of her fingertips against the exquisitely tender spot she was sure she had already found, judging by Cora's reaction. Her thumb brushed over the sensitive little nub deftly and she could already feel Cora's sex clenching around her fingers.

She kissed her deeply, before pulling back slightly, enough for Cora to see her face and she smiled slyly and winked.

"Whatever you say m'lady."

Her tongue trailed from Cora's throbbing pulse point, down, down over her collarbone and, tenderly kissing the skin over her heart, she reached Cora's breasts once more. She smiled to herself and took the hard nipple between her lips, sucking delicately and lashing her tongue over the sensitive peak.

Underneath her she felt Cora shudder and moan her name breathlessly. The sudden constriction around her fingers would have told her Cora had reached another peak, even if she couldn't see the tension draining from Cora's limbs.

Well...this wouldn't bloody do!

Sarah was not to be outdone and the Countess had thrown down the gauntlet earlier. She pretended not to have noticed and kept her fingers moving, eliciting squeals from Cora's gasping mouth and swiftly left the nipple behind, moving herself between Cora's sleek, smooth thighs. She could do this all day, make Cora come again and again and again; she moved her thumb aside and applied her tongue to Cora's throbbing nerve, still moving her fingers against the hungry spot within her and smirked.

She wondered how many times Cora's body would yield to her before she grew too exhausted to take any more. They were even now but Sarah intended to play dirty.

Somewhere, deep, deep, _deep_ in the back of Cora's mind, it occurred to her that this was thoroughly unfair. She'd had two and Sarah had had two and now it was _her_ turn to coax her lover to a shattering orgasm. She should be utterly ravishing the other woman and instead, she was _still_ on her back with Sarah's fingers doing unspeakable things to her helpless body and her _tongue_...

No. This wasn't just unfair, it was _torture_.

Oh god, it was rougher than before. Her tongue moved faster, harder, over her swollen flesh, and she gripped Sarah's hair in response, utterly powerless to do anything but squeal and whimper and cry out her pleasure despite the injustice of it all. Cora was still unbearably sensitive from before, and each flick of her tongue and thrust of her fingers was like a red hot knife of pleasure searing through her.

Cora surrendered. What else was she supposed to do, fighting a losing battle against a supreme tactician? She briefly considered the idea of dismissing Sarah as her lady's maid and keeping her on full time for _this_, and this alone, but dismissed the notion just as quickly. They weren't _all_ Diana Lethaby after all. Besides, Sarah had been her lady's maid for ten long years and no one – absolutely _no one_ – could replace her, and that was even _before _the woman had got her naked and writing underneath her!

"Sar-ah," she whimpered, dragging out the name as it hitched on her tongue and drowned in another, altogether louder moan she couldn't suppress, even by biting down ruthlessly on her lip. It was all _so_ good and she was embarrassingly close, _again_. God, if this was Rosamund she'd _never _let her live it down, but something told her Sarah would take nothing from this experience but the utmost pleasure, rather than the smug satisfaction of her older sister.

She rose up, higher and higher, the pleasure spiralling until she couldn't take it anymore and felt _sure_ she'd black out, before sweet release crashed through her and she all but screamed and gripped at Sarah as if her life depended on it. She called out Sarah's name breathlessly, limbs sagging, utterly spent and satiated but still _so _aware of the fingers deep inside her – god help her, she wasn't intending to go again, was she?

Cora didn't think she could survive if she did.

Sarah glanced up at her with calculating eyes. Christ! Cora looked absolutely done in! She smiled at her ability to make the other woman utterly glow, really she was so beautiful and should just be made love to all the live long day. But could she cope with another assault on her sex quite so soon? Cora was a lady after all and probably wasn't accustomed to such rough treatment, to having to take as much pleasure as one could in a short period of time.

She wiggled her fingers slightly, aware that they must be beginning to prune they'd been immersed in Cora's wet centre for so long now, and smiled as the woman twitched. Sarah took pity on her and gently pulled them out, careful not to hurt Cora at all, bringing her digits immediately to her lips, licking them clean thoroughly. God, she could taste nothing but this for the rest of her life and be _more _than happy.

She placed one more gentle kiss on Cora's hipbone and slowly pulled herself up the bed into place next to Cora, enjoying, in a way she hadn't noticed earlier such was her pleasure, the feeling of silk against her naked skin. Everything felt wonderful, the sheets against her skin, Cora's ragged breath in her ears, soft skin under her fingers as she gently stroked Cora's cheek. She hadn't stopped in the heat of lust to really think about it, but suddenly she could think of nothing but the fact that she'd had the Countess of Grantham naked and writhing _three _bloody times. She'd been given the privilege of worshipping this goddess of a woman with her body and mouth and Cora, against all her expectations, had returned the favour.

The sheer memory of Cora's mouth on her sex was nearly enough to make her come again, but instead she smiled, as softly as she could, and gently drew Cora's face to look at her. The red, swollen lips called to her and she leaned in for a soft kiss, more languid and casual than anything they had shared that afternoon. If Sarah hadn't thought it sounded terribly foolish she'd almost call it loving.

She smiled again and stroked Cora's cheek fondly.

"I take it you've 'ad enough m'lady?"

Enough? Cora thought – or rather knew– that she could spend an entire year in this bed, being loved by this woman, and it _still _wouldn't be enough. She had never been touched like she had this afternoon, ever. And despite her best intentions and all of the love she felt inside, she couldn't help but think, perhaps somewhat uncharitably, that Robert never _would _be able to touch her like this. He hadn't in twenty-six years, why would he suddenly begin?

How could she go back to that merely satisfactory sexual existence now?

Laughing, breathless and flushed, she leaned into the hand on her cheek, brushing her lips over the pale, rough flesh of her loving fingers. Cora's own scent was still so present on the digits, and it immediately stirred arousal deep inside her. She flicked out her tongue, stroking it over the flesh, humming lightly at the taste – if she hadn't been so limply exhausted, she would have had Sarah on her back by now and her head buried happily between her thighs.

"I don't think I could summon the strength to even _stand _right now."

Smirking lightly, Cora languidly pressed her lips to Sarah's, soft and deep and lingering for a long moment. She would make it up to her later, when they had more time without the increasing risk of discovery.

"You're a _wicked _woman, Sarah O'Brien."

Sarah smiled down at her, hoping to God that she wasn't coming across as too much of an adoring acolyte, she certainly felt like one at the moment and she was supremely unconcerned with maintaining her usual air of utter detachment.

"I've been told that before m'lady."

She returned the kiss hungrily, sliding her hand from Cora's cheek to her waist and pulling her closer. She could do this all day, just this. Just touching Cora's soft skin and exploring her mouth thoroughly, tangling their tongue together, tasting herself in the woman's mouth and simply _existing _together in this room. God, this was intoxicating.

It occurred to her in the midst of her lust that they were here for a reason. She still worked for Cora and Cora was still the Countess of Grantham. Grudgingly she broke the kiss and rolled onto her back, hoping this would be easier and she wouldn't give in and just ravish the other woman again if she wasn't looking directly at her.

"You best 'ave that bath m'lady. Lady Rosamund can smell sex at fifty paces."

_Oh god, Rosamund._

If anybody could be counted upon to suspect something as ordinarily unusual as an affair between a Countess and her lady's maid it was her brother's sharp and altogether too nosy, god love her, for her own good sister. Cora was surprised she had not burst into the room already, because Sarah was right; she did have an astonishing gift for seeking out sexual activity of any kind.

Glancing at Sarah out of the corner of her eye, Cora couldn't help but smile. Lying side by side, satiated and happy and utterly naked on their backs, there was a sense of domesticity here that she found curiously appealing. Cora tried not to analyze this too deeply though and simply enjoyed the experience of lying beside Sarah, after being so thoroughly loved. She smiled lightly as she turned on her side, inadvertently crushing her breasts together, and reached out a shaky hand to smooth Sarah's hair back from her face. She was truly unbelievable, an utter revelation, and Cora's heart swelled in fondness for the woman who had been merely her maid and now…her lover. She couldn't even begin to contemplate her life without this woman in her bed. This _had _to happen again, tonight.

Cora leaned in for a final kiss before she pushed herself up, serene and glowing in satisfaction.

"I suppose you're right. Although I'm sure the water is terribly cold by now."

Sarah closed her eyes in contemplation. The thought of Cora's skin goose-pimpling in the cold water was wonderful and the effect it would have upon her nipples was positively distracting. Perhaps it wouldn't be a good idea? But then again, it would take too long to draw the bath again and Cora couldn't be seen flushed and still swollen like this, Rosamund would know on sight that Cora had spent the afternoon being thoroughly ravished. And his lordship had been in his library all day - it would be too obvious what had happened.

"Maybe that's not a bad thing m'lady..." she smiled conspiratorially at Cora. "You could do with coolin' down proper like."

Sarah managed to pull herself away, slid off the bed grudgingly and wondered vaguely whether she should dress for this. It seemed a bit improper for her to bathe Cora whilst naked herself but given what they had _just _done perhaps she would be permitted. She was going to have to wash herself before she replaced her dress and _certainly _before seeing Mrs. Hughes, who's eagle eye was almost as attuned as Lady Rosamund's.

She turned back to Cora and took a deep breath. The Countess was still reclining on the bed, trying to reclaim her usual breathing patterns and Sarah was entranced with how her breasts heaved during the action. She licked her lips and tried to control herself; Cora certainly looked thoroughly fucked already, once more and she might not be able to face anyone tonight. But how had she never noticed before how perfect Cora's breasts actually were? True, she'd not really given them a great deal of thought in the past, but everything about her was exquisite.

She held out a hand.

"Come on, let's get this over with. Whether the water's cold or not, she'll smell it on you, so you'll have to go in. I promise to be quick though. An' there are plenty of towels for me to wrap you in when you come out."

"_Dear _O'Brien." Cora smiled, soft and wide and extraordinary fond, and reached out to grasp Sarah's hand. She squeezed it in affection, and pushed herself gracefully up to stand, the silk sheets falling vaguely from her body and leaving her fully exposed.

Sarah had seen her like this so many times before that Cora supposed it only natural she should feel so utterly comfortable under the other woman's appraising gaze. But even after ten long years Cora had never felt quite as comfortable as she did right now, basking in the warmth of her adoring gaze and appreciative smile. Even with Robert she preferred to be clothed post-sex, despite his over-zealous appreciation of her breasts. After their coupling, she'd usually scramble for her nightgown and cover herself up. But being naked with Sarah was a privilege.

The prospect of bathing in cool water was alarming, but necessary. Besides, Sarah was right; after the incomparable pleasure of this afternoon and the ache that _still _persisted although Sarah had coaxed her to orgasm after orgasm, a cold bath might do her some good, even if it _was _to be administered by the very woman whose name she had screamed less than five minutes ago.

"You're right, as usual. I don't intend for us to be discovered, _especially _before I repay you for your...generosity this afternoon." Her eyes sparkled. "Although the prospect of cleansing myself of you pains me more than I can express, darling."

Cora's gaze drifted to the bathroom, and her heart clenched _again _at the sight of the towels littering the floor. What had she ever done to deserve this woman? She looked back to Sarah, smiling in immeasurable tenderness. "Lead on, Sarah."

Smiling Sarah tugged her hand slightly, waiting till Cora was close enough for her to drop a kiss on her lips.

"I might need to steal some water too m'lady, Mrs Hughes is almost as bad as Lady Rosamund."

She winked conspiratorially and, unable to resist, wrapped her arms around Cora's naked figure, groaning at the feeling of their bodies being pushed together, still flushed and a thin sheen of perspiration covering them both. Sarah pushed her lips against Cora's once more, teasing apart her lips and tangling their tongues together, God! If she kept this up she'd have to have Cora again and if they carried on like that they'd never leave this room. It wasn't an idea that Sarah found unappealing, but the Countess still had a life to lead outside of the bedroom.

She groaned as she detached herself.

"Christ, I could do nothin' but this all day."

Cora couldn't help but groan as Sarah kissed her, nor the flush of desire that spread through her at the eager touch of her lips and the sweep of Sarah's incredible tongue. Just the memory of the things that tongue had been doing no more than five minutes ago was enough to make her legs weak. If Sarah persisted in kissing her like this, she would _never_ make it to the bathtub. And whilst Cora could think of nothing more appealing than stumbling back to the bed in a heap of pleasure, Robert might find her absence from dinner slightly suspicious, and _Rosamund _would make it her personal mission to ascertain the reason for that absence!

"I'm sure that can be arranged darling, we wouldn't want you being harassed by Mrs Hughes, would we?"

Cora smiled as Sarah detached herself with obvious difficultly, quietly pleased she seemed to affect the other woman as much as she was affected by _her_. Squeezing Sarah's hand in return, she allowed herself to be led in the direction of the bathroom, flushed and smiling and utterly content, until they stepped through the doors and the reality of the location _really _hit her.

Instead of squeezing, Cora gripped Sarah's hand, nails nipping the flesh of the other woman's palm, and clung on tight. It was just a room, she tried to reason, despite the fact her breathing had quickened exponentially and her face had turned the colour of ash. It was just a room and this was just a bath. Besides, the worst had happened already, hadn't it? She had nothing to lose _now _if she slipped.

The guilt she had successfully managed to suppress all afternoon came flooding back and Sarah was suddenly aware of what a truly, bloody awful person she really was. She'd killed this woman's child and then more or less taken advantage of her emotional state hadn't she? She was no better than Diana and her sexual manipulations, or any of the men she had known in her youth who prayed on naivety.

Cora didn't know the kind of woman she really was. The kind that would lash out at her employer _so _viciously but she was not without regret. God! She would regret it till the day she bloody died now and she would spend her whole life trying to make it up to Cora if she had to - if this afternoon was only the beginning of her penance then she would gladly do what she could to make Cora as happy as possible. Even if it meant a lifetime spent between her legs, although Sarah was reasonably sure that one was not supposed to enjoy one's punishment quite so much. She pushed away the thoughts - she was already a lapsed Catholic, what did she care for punishments and penance, the whole point now was to make Cora happy.

She turned on the spot and squeezing Cora's hand briefly, allowing it to slip from her to immediately pull the woman into a tight embrace. The feeling of their naked bodies pressed close made Sarah sigh but not even the exquisite pleasure they had shared and would share again was as important as what she needed to do right now.

"'m here m'lady. I won't let anythin' 'appen to you ever again, not 'ere, I swear it. I'll 'old you through every bleedin' second of your bath if you need me to. An' then any bath after that. Anythin' at all just to make you feel safe."

Sarah bought one hand up to tangle in Cora's glorious curls, kissing her cheek and bringing Cora's head down to gently rest on her shoulder, as her other hand stroked her back.

"'m 'ere an' I'll go nowhere as long as you need me."

She meant it. Guilt or not, irregardless of whether she was allowed to touch her like this again, she would never let Cora down again, never let her be hurt.

The sincerity in Sarah's voice moved Cora to tears and she tried in vain to blink them back as she pressed her face to the curve of her neck and breathed in the scent of her soft skin. She believed her unreservedly, no doubt in her mind whatsoever that this woman, her _lover_, would do everything in her power to ensure her safety – the towels still littering the floor were proof of that. And Sarah didn't lie. If she told Cora the sky was falling she would probably believe her, and she believed her now when she said she'd never let anything happen again.

She hardly deserved such fortune. What had Cora ever done to warrant such faultless devotion, or the pleasure that had been lavished on her this afternoon? Yesterday she had rejected Sarah and sent her, wounded and humiliated, back to the emptiness of her room. She had _kissed_ her and caressed her and allowed her to anticipate more, before sending her away to preserve her _own _dignity. Cora scoffed at her own stupidity. She might not deserve this woman's affection, but she would never push her away again. They were intrinsically tied together now, bound together by much more than just an afternoon of unrestrained passion and, though in the grand scale of Cora's life infidelity was a complication she could probably do without, she would never bring herself to regret love with this woman.

Cora revelled in the arms around her for a minute more before she pulled back lightly to meet Sarah's eyes, bringing her hand up to cup her cheek and offer her a weak smile of gratitude. She looked so tortured, and it suddenly – and oh god, the guilt that rushed through her – occurred to Cora that the poor woman must have been blaming herself for the accident this entire time. And even if she hadn't, gathering her sobbing, bleeding mistress up from the bathroom floor would be a memory that would surely never leave her. Cora gripped Sarah's hand tightly in hers.

"I'll always need you. I can't imagine a day without you."

Sarah leaned in assuredly to kiss Cora desperately. There was passion - but then she suspected there always would be now, no matter how simple the kiss - but it conveyed all the tenderness she felt, all the adoration and all of the protectiveness. She would never let Cora be hurt again if she could help it and Cora's words made her unimaginably happy. They could do this every single day for the rest of their lives and Sarah knew she would never grow tired of it.

She took Cora's hand in her own, running her thumb over the soft, delicate skin so different to her own, calloused by a lifetime of work, and squeezed.

"You needn't worry m'lady, 'm not goin' anywhere. I promise."

Tugging slightly on her hand to get her to move Sarah led Cora towards the bath, feeling the soft towels under her own feet and assessing whether they would actually make much of a difference in Cora's poor, tortured mind. The towels were too little too late really weren't they? After she herself had done altogether too much damage to Cora for it ever to be sufficiently made up to her.

Sarah wanted to tell her. For one brief, mad moment - almost as terrible as the one in which she had allowed the slippery soap to remain on the floor - she considered just blurting it out.

_"It's my fault! It's ALL my fault and you should hate me forever, not let me take you to bed!"_

The moment passed and Sarah breathed a sigh of relief for herself. It would do no one any good to know what she had done, or rather what she hadn't done, and it would only distress Cora and Sarah knew she'd never be able to live with herself if she denied her own meagre comfort to Cora now.

She managed a small smile, hoping Cora would put her momentary wobbliness down to concern, and squeezed her hand again.

"I'll hold you while you get in. I swear I won't let you go alright?"

Cora allowed Sarah to take her hand and pull her closer, tentatively reaching the side of the tub and glancing over it, as if it were some sort of animal waiting to strike. It was utterly unimposing – smooth and beautifully crafted porcelain in the centre of the room – but she knew better than anyone how easy it would be to slip…

And then she felt the soft, plush material underneath her feet and heard Sarah's words, and Cora believed her, completely and utterly. The words filled her with a sudden assurance, and it occurred to her, as she pressed her face into her lover's neck, basking in the heat of her gloriously flushed skin – no doubt flushed from their recent exertion – that Sarah could tell her the sky was purple and she would believe her. After everything they had shared this afternoon, each gasp and sigh and moan, how could she ever _not _believe her?

Cora smiled at the thought, pressing her lips to the soft flesh, and pulled back with purpose. She was going to do this, whether she wanted to or not. It was utterly absurd, the idea that she, the Countess of Grantham, might avoid bathing again for the rest of her life because of a single incident! But she might just try to, if she didn't get in the bathtub now.

She squeezed Sarah's hand, gripping it as she let out a breath to steady herself. She was almost certainly being ridiculous, having to _convince_ herself to step into her _bathtub_, but under the circumstances doubted anybody would judge her for her foolishness, least of all Sarah, whose thumb caressed her palm with _such _tenderness. It was all she needed really, this woman close by with her soothing words and soothing presence, and her beautiful smile that told her she never needed be afraid again, as long as she was here.

Cora took in a deep breath and stepped into the tub.

She had forgotten it would be cold, and released a little squeak of protest as she submerged herself in the water. The shock soon passed as she began to shiver, and Cora smiled up at Sarah in embarrassment.

"It's cold."

The moment Cora sat in the cold water her skin immediately reacted and Sarah's momentary foray into her own bleak thoughts was stopped. Cora's perfect porcelain skin was goosepimpling from the temperature, the flush that had been overwhelming her before beginning to fade away but Sarah's eyes were drawn immediately to her smile. Nothing seemed more imperative at the moment than making Cora smile and keeping her from sinking into another depression over her accident and somehow she had done that, somehow she had made Cora smile.

She smiled back immediately, reassuring and absolutely enchanted by Cora, a smile so different to the fond but mostly forced smile she had had for her in the past. No this one, this one smile, was utterly free and completely for Cora. She reached forward, with slightly shaking fingers - it all still seemed so impossible and she was still waiting to awake to bleak ceiling of her little room, alone and feeling a fool - and brushing the hair from Cora's forehead she tenderly stroked the skin underneath.

Unsure of what to do Sarah leant her free hand on the side of the tub as she lowered herself to her knees by the bath, slightly lower than Cora now, but able to lean forward and pull her ladyship's face closer, kissing her gently.

"See? It's not too bad. Bit cold maybe, but I still reckon you need coolin' off."

Her smile increased and she winked slightly, turning her head to hide the blush at her own audacity as she reached for the soap on the table.

Her blood froze once more. It was here, on this spot she was so willingly kneeling now, that she had left the stupid bar and the soft fabric beneath her skin felt so wrong. It had been hard and cold and soaked with the splash and really she deserved to be kneeling on that. To have her skin go raw as she tended to Cora on the same spot she had so brutally hurt her.

Breaking from her thoughts - and _god _how good she was getting at that these days - Sarah handed the soap to Cora, not trusting herself to reach out and do it for her. The temptation was all too much and her hand on the bath tightened it's grip, wrapping her fingers around the rim in an attempt to keep them still.

The moment Sarah sank down beside the bath, Cora didn't feel so cold anymore. How could she be, with her lips against hers and their bodies close, and Sarah keeping watch beside her and smiling so beatifically, as if nothing could hurt her again ever again. She returned the smile warmly, feeling a flutter in her heart; it seemed entirely natural for them both to be here, utterly naked and speaking casually of the lovemaking that had come before, as if it happened every day.

She took the soap from Sarah's hand, swallowing at the feel of it, so soft and slippery and heavy against her palm. She gripped it tight, holding onto it for dear life as she brought it to her skin, away from the sides and close to her chest; if she dropped it now there'd be nothing more than a splash, not a fall. She looked to Sarah, seeking her reassuring smile and gaze and got it in full force, her lover's eyes tender and so soothing that Cora relaxed immediately. She raised her free hand as the other one loosened around the soap, nudging her fingers against those curled around the rim of the porcelain tub, and gave her lover a impish smile.

"I'd suggest you join me but I doubt we'd simply _bathe _together."

The idea was certainly not unappealing, but too much time had passed already. If she did not bathe now, she would have to go to dinner smelling of Sarah and sex. Robert would no doubt be oblivious, and the girls too, but Rosamund was another matter entirely. _She _would know instantaneously that her sister-in-law had not been doing needlework this afternoon, no matter how good Cora's poker face. And as Rosamund regularly defeated her at that very game, she doubted her poker face was particularly up to scratch.

Her heart felt so much lighter now, and her shoulders free of the crippling weight she had been carrying before, like chains wrapped around her. She felt free to smile and laugh and bathe, utterly without fear. Cora brought the soap to her body, lathering it against her breasts and rubbing it thoroughly over the expanse of her skin. She did it as quickly as possible, determined to get through this without gripping Sarah's wrist instead of the soap and pulling her in. Her stomach fluttered as the soap moved over her still sensitive flesh, but nowhere _near _as much as it had when it had been Sarah's hands. She braved a look at Sarah, and bit her lip at the look of lust on her lover's face.

Oh god. As much as she'd like to, more than anything, they _couldn't_.

"I'm nearly done," she promised, flushing.

Sarah nodded at Cora's words. Her promise certainly didn't stop Sarah's heart beating out of her chest not did it prevent her skin from tingling with remembrance of the sensations it had felt that afternoon. She smiled gently and reached out to push a falling curl behind Cora's ear, knowing that she would have to be the strong one if either of them were ever going to get out of the bathroom that afternoon.

"Take your time m'lady. We've still got time before your due for dinner."

With great reluctance Sarah pushed herself to her feet and turned to the porcelain jug and bowl underneath the ornate mirror and poured out water she was sure was cold, at best. Bracing herself she plunged her hand into the water and grimaced at the chill shooting through her. She turned to look at Cora and smiled ruefully.

"I think it's for the best if I do this over 'ere m'lady. That's if you don't mind?"

She had a feeling Cora _would _mind but there was precious little the other woman could do about it. They needed to be clean and if she kept looking at Cora there was little chance of her controlling herself. Thirty years in service had served her well and with self-control she knew Cora didn't possess she turned slightly - not far enough that she couldn't see Cora, because god forbid if she left her alone there was another accident! - but she focused instead on the horrible task of cleansing Cora from her body.

It was the most sensible proposition Cora had heard all day – not as thrilling as being made love to by this woman, this beautiful, wonderful woman who had loved her more thoroughly than she'd ever been loved before – but sensible, and, though the thought of Sarah spending the remainder of the day wrapped in her scent did nothing to dull the throb that still lingered deep between her thighs, she found herself nodding reluctantly. Rosamund's powers of perception when it came to anything _remotely _sexual were perhaps legendary, but Cora feared the keen eye of Mrs. Hughes no less than she feared her sister-in-law's unusual sixth sense. Sarah needed to wash as much as she did, and she needed to wash now.

She experienced a brief moment of panic as Sarah seemed to move toward the door and away from the room. Cora might have managed this milestone, but her progress would no doubt be for nothing if Sarah left her here alone in this room, in this very tub. But it soon became apparent that she had no _intention_ of leaving of her alone, and for that she was unspeakably grateful. She observed her lover with immeasurable fondness as she moved over to the mirror, noting every movement, every gesture. The gentle roll of her hips, the strong grip around the porcelain jug...all movements she had observed every single day for ten long years, and she had somehow only _truly _noticed them now.

Now, she would be able to think of little else.

She bit her lip as she observed Sarah's attention turn to the porcelain jug. Minutes after she had first submerged herself in the water that had long since cooled whilst their flesh had seared against the sheets, Cora no longer felt the chill, but Sarah had yet to feel it against her flesh and, as she yelped - and cursed - in protest as she poured the water over herself, she wished there was _some _way she could take the sting away and warm her lover without them ending up right back where they had started. She wished, sighing sadly as Sarah cleansed the physical reminders of their lovemaking from her skin, that there was some way she could sear herself into Sarah's skin and stay there forever without potentially falling under suspicion.

But even as she scrubbed at her flesh, stripping away layers of dirt and sweat and the sheen of sex that still lingered on her skin, she knew she could never be rid of Sarah now.

Her touch ran far deeper than anything that could be wiped away with a bar of soap.


	11. Dinner with the Family

A/N: We're both so sorry about the delay in getting this up. We've been rather distracted by many things, least of all Iain Glenn, but hope this chapter makes up for our extended absence. Another chapter will follow very shortly.

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><p>Dinner that night was the usual affair, but Cora's mind was elsewhere, still lost in her bedroom and Sarah O'Brien's arms. It had been the most torturous dressing session of her life; O'Brien...<em>Sarah<em>...had been efficient as ever, and her gown had been buttoned to perfection, until there was absolutely nothing out of place and nothing that could possibly give the game away. Indeed, Cora could have been forgiven for believing that nothing had _happened _between them that afternoon, if it hadn't been for the breath on her back as Sarah tightened her corset, or the lips on her neck as her fingers stroked around her thighs. She had been a hair's-breadth from taking her back to bed, before Rosamund had burst in to accompany her sister-in-law downstairs to dinner, but it hadn't broken the spell between them. The look Sarah had given her as Rosamund ushered her out of the room ensured she'd think of little else but how and _when_their lovemaking would happen again.

Because it _would _happen again, and the sooner the better.

"Cora?"

Cora's eyes snapped up only to find her mother-in-law staring back at her acerbically.

"Do you have somewhere _else _to be?"

Cora blinked away the images in her mind; primarily Sarah spread out in the bed in front of her, but also what the woman would do to her the next time they were alone without Rosamund's imminent arrival looming over them. She supposed the blinking gave her an air of stupidity but in twenty-six years of dealing  
>with Violet she'd found that usually worked to her advantage.<p>

"Of course not. I think all of our minds are pre-occupied after the announcement yesterday."

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Robert – she refused to look at him properly less she either lose her temper and start throwing things or else throw herself at his feet and beg him to stay – and his mind too seemed to be absent. At the other end of the table and clearly still put out at having being placed at the end, as far away from Robert as was feasible, Rosamund's auburn head lifted and fiddling with her wine glass she caught Cora's gaze and smiled wryly.

"Yes, it was hardly a typical ending to one of your garden parties," she took a sip, pausing for effect. "Although I think it was still less disastrous than the year you went into labour with Edith."

Smiling still Rosamund leaned in to Edith slightly and Cora thanked the heavens for giving her Rosamund Painswick – whatever was wrong with Edith, perhaps Rosamund would be able to snap her out of it.

"Honestly darling, you do like to announce your presence."

Edith rolled her eyes and sipped her own less-depleted drink, quite used to her Aunt's ways and it stuck Cora that it must be terribly boring for Rosamund to come to a household where they were all so accustomed to her that she failed to shock or provoke anyone. It was no wonder she stayed in London for the majority of the time! Cora spared her a smile and felt the familiar wave of fondness that was quite unlike anything she felt for anyone else except perhaps Sarah when Rosamund winked back in camaraderie.

"She was the highlight of the day."

Cora smiled softly at her middle daughter, trying to draw her out of herself. After yesterday one would have thought that the devastation of the war had already swept through Downton: husband and wife with a chilly silence between them, Mary looking stoic and no one mentioning that the engagement they'd all thought was definite had flittered away, and Edith looking morose. The only thing Cora could think of, apart from the announcement of war, was the rather sudden departure of Sir Anthony Strallan. She hadn't really noticed herself but Violet had said it was a tad unexpected given where the tide had been turning.

Rosamund smirked.

"That wasn't what you screamed then darling."

Robert cleared his throat.

"I don't think we need go into detail around the dinner table."

"Spoilsport," Rosamund muttered under her breath, though not quiet enough to convince the table she hadn't intended to be overheard, and Cora fought the urge to smile.

Things between she and Robert were strained enough already; siding with his older sister over a sibling dispute might well be the final nail in the coffin of the civility they had managed thus far in public. With everything else that had occurred in the last twenty-four hours, the last thing their children needed was another reason to mope, and her mother-in-law certainly did not need another reason to gloat. But that wasn't especially fair. Violet had been nothing but considerate, and Cora was ashamed to think she had expected disappointment and anger in the wake of her accident. The Dowager Countess was made of altogether better stuff for that.

"You would think," Violet began imperiously, "that after fifty-two years, one would be above such juvenile behaviour."

Rosamund opened her mouth to protest, but soon closed it at the look on her mother's face. "You may fool your frivolous London friends but you forget, Rosamund, I remember your birth year all _too_well."

Sybil smothered a giggle and Cora felt her heart warm; at least one of her daughters was something other than miserable. She had no idea what had happened between Mary and Matthew, or Edith and Sir Anthony Strallan, but she could hazard a guess that Sybil's entirely unsubtle attempts to acquire a position for the housemaid had been fruitful at long last. She'd seen the two of them talking excitedly with the chauffeur and couldn't help but feel sorry for the boy with the pace the two girls were rattling: perhaps he was beginning to learn - and she smiled softly at what Sarah would have to say on the matter - that the bond between women was not to be understood.

"I trust you enjoyed the party, Sybil. Should we be advertising for a new housemaid?"

Before Sybil could open her mouth to reply with the ghost of a smile still dancing around her lips Robert cut her off with an imperious tone.

"I would have thought there were more important things to be concerning ourselves with other than having a full rostrum of staff?"

Behind her Cora assumed Carson was flinching but he gave away no other indication of objecting to his lordship's words.

"You mean fighting for King and country? "

"King and Country will be lucky if Robert keeps out of it. If I recall he couldn't hit a single grouse last Christmas so lord knows what use he'll be. And he's not as fast as he used to be either."

Cora and Robert flinched as one, but it was Violet who interjected first. Cora had hoped for more time, but the sudden awareness in her mother-in-law's eyes reminded her that the older woman missed _nothing_.

"Rosamund, that's enough! Robert, tell me now and I want no embellishments; are you planning to go war?"

The sudden tension in the room had even roused Mary from her misery, and Cora inwardly mourned for her children. Their misery before would be nothing compared to the prospect of losing the father they adored, and Cora wished she could have kept the news from them for one more night; perhaps with one more night of sleep they would have been able to cope with it better?

"I plan to do what is right and decent. That is all any man can do."

Cora fought the urge to roll her eyes. After their devastating argument she had consoled herself with Sarah and now Robert's grandiose declarations didn't wound her as they had the night before, instead they made her think that the whole situation was too ridiculous for words. How could he talk about doing what was _right_ and _decent _when he would be all but abandoning them for god only knew how long, and when she and the girls needed him more than ever. Every inch of confusion and pain on their faces wounded her and looking around them now she couldn't think of a thing to say to make it better.

"Are you absolutely stark raving bonkers?"

If nothing else, Cora knew she would always be able to rely on Rosamund to have something to say.

"Please Rosamund, the last thing we need now are _your_particular brand of histrionics."

"But Mama, he's nearly fifty years old! What is he going to do, charge over the battlements with his crippled valet?"

Cora nearly smiled at that.

"But I thought there was an age-limit!" Sybil protested, and the pain in her voice was enough to wipe the smile from Cora's lips.

"A man can still volunteer to serve his country can't he? I was a soldier once and I will be again."

"And do you not remember how your family suffered?" Violet all but exploded and Cora couldn't pretend she wasn't taken aback. Violet was never one to hold her tongue and she and Rosamund were frequently on the other end of it but she rarely spoke to her son in such a way. "Your children may be young women now, but I have no intention of propping up your wife through _another _war!"

Cora thought about protesting that she had not required _propping _up but the horrible truth was she had, and she probably would again.

"My wife understands my position and that I must do my duty."

"Is that why she ruined Mama's favourite vase last night, brother dear?"

Cora closed her eyes for a moment, suddenly rather defeated. Of _course _Rosamund would know about that, the whole house probably knew about it by now, but having it aired around the family dining table was quite different to Sarah calmly treading over the debris and holding her hand as she had last night.

"Your wife is still in the room," she interjected quietly, wearily. All eyes were suddenly on her with varying degrees of sympathy and regret but she ignored them all and met only her husband's in desperate appeal. "Don't go, Robert. Surely you can see how much we _all _need you?"

But his mind was made up. Cora could see that clearly, without any need for words. He would be immovable in his decision, even with the sound of Edith's quiet sobs and the utter disbelief on Mary's face, and if any of the girls were going to agree with Robert's decision it would have been their eldest.

"I've made up my mind, Cora. I would prefer to go to France with your support-" he silenced Rosamund's scoff with a sharp look, "-but I will go regardless."

Cora had no doubt of that and felt suddenly and overwhelmingly tired. Her body felt like lead and her heart felt much the same: what point was there in fighting a battle she had already lost?

"Then if you'll excuse me, I'd rather like to lie down."

Rosamund made immediately to get up from her chair but Cora shook her head gently in discouragement. Her sister-in-law inevitably still had a great deal more to say than she had - Robert was hardly off the hook yet - and there was one person she wanted to be with now and it was not Rosamund, no matter how much she adored her husband's sister.

No one else prevented her from leaving, not that she had expected anyone to stop her per say, but not a word followed her as she left the dining room and she was left to imagine what they might think in her absence. The weight of everything that was happening meant that she couldn't quite bring herself to care for any of their opinions at the moment, not even the girls'; things were going to get _so_hard now, harder than they had ever been before and they were all going to need her soon enough. Well, until that time she was entitled to something that lifted her spirits wasn't she? It was gone seven and the servants would be preparing to eat, and she would no doubt catch Sarah in the yard having a crafty cigarette before her meal. Improbably, Cora smiled at the thought and slipped seamlessly down the servant's staircase, keeping her steps light so she was able to remain undetected as she went along the passage that led to the door to the yard.

Outside the night air was warm, much warmer than it had any right to be really - wasn't it more fitting for a night full of such terrible things to chill one to the bone? - but she welcomed the freshness of it after being trapped in the dining room with her grieving and devastated family. Sarah, as she had expected her to be, was stood just off to the side, out of the beam of light cast by the door, and leaning against the wall with a cigarette between her fingers.

"Does Mrs Hughes know you're out here?"

If Sarah was surprised by her presence she didn't show it and gave Cora a soft smirk, but inwardly she worried. If Cora had come out here in the middle of dinner there had to be a bloody good reason, and Sarah would bet an entire month's wages that it had something to do with her husband.

"No, but then it's none of her business...m'lady," she added with a smile. "I'm supposed to be free until you've finished your brandy but I'll 'azard a guess that you'll not be 'aving any tonight?"

"Oh I don't know about that," Cora mumbled as she came closer, the smell of the smoke hitting her like a wall but it was mingled in with the warm night air and Sarah's presence and she found it oddly soothing. "After the dinner we've just had I feel like I could drink it straight from the bottle and not stop until I was good and drunk."

That caught Sarah's attention and she stood up immediately from the wall, much less interested in her fag than she had been moments before and stubbed it out on the brick beside her. She could light up another if she wanted to; they weren't cheap really but that wasn't important when Cora was talking about getting herself drunk on a whole bottle of brandy. The countess was a lightweight at the best of times and she bloody well knew it: she'd obviously been right about dinner.

"What 'appened, love?"

The term of endearment made Cora smile and she hesitated for a moment as she reached Sarah's side. She wanted to hold her hand more than anything - she couldn't imagine anything that would make her feel better now - but the yard was by no means a private place and the last thing she needed on top of everything else was a curious yard boy spotting them and passing on his observations. She didn't take it in the end and instead leaned back against the wall, her arm brushing Sarah's just slightly, and let out a soft sigh.

"He told them. He told them all he's going to France."

She should have guessed. Sarah had never been fond of Lord Grantham but she hadn't ever considered him as stupid as she did right now. Going off to France and leaving Cora bloody Crawley was proof enough of his stupidity, but announcing it over the dinner table? The thought of it made her blood boil.

"I take it the Dowager Countess wasn't best pleased?"

Cora's lips curled up briefly. "That's an understatement. I've never seen her quite so riled before, and we've butted heads on _many _occasions."

"An' he's still going?"

Cora was silent for a moment. "It seems so."

She sounded so utterly defeated that Sarah wanted to gather her up in her arms there and then, but she heard a door slam shut nearby and she was reminded of precisely where they were. Still, surely it wasn't entirely out of the question given the circumstances so she reached for Cora's hand instead, entwining their fingers and giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Maybe 'e'll come round?"

"And perhaps Mary will marry Matthew and declare peace with Edith and life will be easy for once?" Cora smiled vaguely, but it was by no means a happy one. "But I think you know how unlikely that is."

Sarah squeezed her hand back, wishing she could pull her in for a closer embrace. It would do both of them the world of good at this point but there was every chance that someone would be watching them and not everyone was as friendly as Thomas. They might not saying anything for Cora's sake but if the wrong person happened to come down the passage then their affair would be scuppered before it had even had chance to begin. Was that what it was? Were they having an affair or was it really nothing more or less than Cora needing someone to cling to in her hour of need. Sarah was determined that, no matter what the reality was, she would be whatever Cora required her to be.

"As unlikely as this all bein' nothin' more than a bad dream I s'pose."

Cora smiled.

"Well, not _everything _has been nighmarish but with the war..."

"I know."

Things were going to change so much. Sarah didn't care too much for her life changing, the changes that had happened since war had been declared had been nothing but positive for her after all, but she worried for Cora's nerves and Thomas' body and knew that if they saw it through the war then maybe she had been given her share of luck in life and that would be enough.

"You must be hungry, love."

It wasn't quite what Cora had expected the other woman to say, but she would rather not contemplate her uncertain future after the evening she had just had. And she was, as it happened, rather hungry. She had forgotten in her haste to leave the room, but Sarah knew her alarmingly well and she smiled softly as she gave her hand a quick squeeze.

"I am rather, but I have no intention of going back in there and," she smirked, "I'm sure we both know it's best not to disturb Mrs Patmore in the middle of dinner."

Sarah nearly laughed. That was true, undoubtedly, but she wouldn't hear of her lady going without dinner when she was clearly famished. Her mind was quite made up and she smoothed down her skirts in preparation.

"Then you're 'aving dinner with me."

"With you?" Cora frowned. "You mean, in the Servant's Hall?"

"That's exactly what I mean. The food's not what you're used to, but it's hot and you're far too skinny."

Cora was tempted to disagree, but Sarah really was in the best position to judge, especially after this afternoon. "Won't they...suspect something?"

"They won't suspect a thing m'lady." They hadn't cottoned on about Thomas yet, after all. She smiled reassuringly, but she could tell she had already won. "Come on."


	12. Don't Let Me Go

As they approached the servant's hall, Sarah began to wonder whether this was such a good idea after all. There would be nothing but questions about Cora's presence, no one would be at ease and that might make her lady worse and that was even without the awkwardness working the other way. Cora might reveal to the others that under the cover of the biting maid there lurked a softer woman of which they knew nothing and Thomas was almost guaranteed to make things difficult for them – _Thomas _would have a field day with all of this, and she had no intention of becoming a laughing stock, even for Cora.

She would take Cora up to her bedroom: she could bring the Countess some food up there, and they could eat in peace together and maybe she would be able to do something to erase the exhaustion from Cora's face? She didn't have to think especially hard about what her tactics might be – she had done an excellent job of distracting her this afternoon, after all. She turned to the other woman, still with Cora's soft hand clasped in hers, but the look of utter trust and reliance made her crumble there and then and she changed her mind immediately back. Cora needed company.

She cleared her throat as they entered the room.

"We've got a visitor."

They all shot up immediately out of their seats and Cora nearly laughed. Oh this was going to be _so_much fun and she needed some fun after the horrible events of the last fortnight: making love to Sarah was, she very much hoped, a sign that things were getting better and she could always rely on the servants to be as reliable as ever. Perhaps the war really would be over soon?

"Good evening all," Cora greeted them graciously, standing to O'Brien's left, and offered them a smile, engineering specifically to relax the servants. "I apologise for disturbing your dinner, but O'Brien twisted my arm. She insisted I join you all, and I couldn't resist."

And if that didn't put them at ease, Cora brought out her secret weapon. She smiled brightly – utterly charming, utterly approachable and utterly irresistible. If she could charm a room full of miserable old, filthy rich men, she could certainly charm her own staff!

_Utterly ingratiating_, Sarah thought. _She'll have them eating out of the palm of her hands in no time, bunch of soft sods that they are. _Naturally she didn't include herself in that particular group but she did catch Thomas' eye and raise her eyebrow slightly, daring him to say anything about the unexpected situation. He didn't open his mouth although he looked as though he dearly wanted to but he did move away from his usual seat next to Sarah's and, with charm that was almost as deadly as Cora's, gestured towards it.

"Can I offer you my seat m'lady?"

Sarah knew he was still a bit angry about her state this morning, but she had been quite thorough in her details of that afternoon's activities and he'd been so impressed that he'd promised to be pleasant to her ladyship. The reminder of this afternoon sent her mind in a different direction entirely and she quickly shoved away the thoughts and looked at Mrs Hughes instead. If there was ever such a mood killer Sarah had yet to encounter her.

"That's awfully kind of you, Thomas, thank you," Cora said and wondered, briefly, what was going through the young footman's head, but he was being sufficiently polite and had even managed a smile, and Cora smiled back gratefully as she accepted the proffered seat.

"It's very kind of you to join us your ladyship," Mrs Hughes spoke finally, apparently getting over her mortal shock long enough to spare Cora a smile. She cast a look in Sarah's direction that Cora didn't miss and certainly didn't like and resolved to keep an eye on her. "We expected you all to still be at dinner."

"Thank you, Mrs Hughes," she smiled. "The rest of the family _are_still at dinner and please do tell Mrs Patmore that the food was wonderful and we're very glad to have her back. But I wanted to come down here and hear how you were all getting along after the announcement."

Cora addressed the entire table this time and Sarah smothered her smile with difficulty. Really this was too amusing for words! The look on Hughsie's face would cheer her to the grave and only Thomas had taken things in his stride and she suspected that was as much for his own amusement as anything else. She smirked at Cora's words, wondering whether the assembled rabble would be able to think of something appropriate to pretend they had been discussing rather than whether Lady Edith would ever find a husband or adding to the betting pool of when Mrs Crawley would finally snap and kill the Dowager Countess.

She snapped herself, rolling her eyes at the second footman who _still_hadn't sat down. Really, did they think Cora was going to bite their bloody heads off? "William, it's hurting my neck lookin' up at you like that. For goodness sake sit down."

He did as he was told and O'Brien grinned inwardly, purposefully avoiding Thomas' eye.

"And why don't you play something?"

"Oh William, you play?" Cora asked, directing her attention to the young footman who instantly turned a rather charming shade of red and began to stutter a response. Cora found the reaction absolutely darling and smiled broadly. "Please play us something."

William continued to blush all the way over to the piano, before, very nervously Cora noted, striking up a delightful little tune. It lightened the mood marginally, but Cora still had work to do and she turned to Thomas determinedly with a small smile.

"Thomas, tell me: how are things downstairs?"

Sarah tried to hide her smirk as she heard Thomas speak up, clearly amused beyond anything that was considered reasonable.

"Very well m'lady. We're privileged to have such company for the night, usually it's just us and the yard boys."

He smirked and Sarah wondered vaguely whether Cora was actually angry about her telling Thomas. Cora couldn't possibly know that Thomas was able to read her like a book and thus she had no chance of concealment, but thus far the Countess had expressed no great anger over the point.

"I'm very honoured to join you, Thomas," Cora continued, glancing briefly in Sarah's direction. "I'm very grateful to Miss O'Brien for extending the invitation."

"It was my pleasure m'lady. You seemed in need of a spell away from upstairs."

The rest of the staff would probably think it shocking, her referring to upstairs and implicitly his lordship like that, as though it were abhorrent, but she knew that Cora would know better.

She met Thomas' eyes. He looked distinctly amused and other than Mrs Hughes was the only one who had dared speak in Cora's presence. Something had to be done about that; if Thomas was allowed to goad Cora then she would be the one to suffer for it. She thought about trying to get William to speak some more but knew it would be like getting blood out of a stone at this point. Really! Did they think Cora was a monster?

"When you off then Gwen?"

Cora looked expectantly to Gwen, smiling warmly as the redhead shifted at the question, a little braver than William but not much so. The poor girl couldn't have hidden the blush if she'd tried, and she stuttered through a response, her eyes darting to Cora.

"'m not sure yet, Miss O'Brien. With the war an' all, they might 'ave to delay my employment."

"Fortunate for us all then, that you might be staying a little longer," Cora said softly, gratified to see the blush on the girl's cheeks heighten and a bashful, flattered smile appear on her lips. "I know Sybil will be pleased.

Sarah scanned her eyes over the assembled staff - Hughes was looking like she had a particularly bad smell under her nose and William was managing to knock out a tune without missing too many notes. Eventually Gwen, fairly glowing from embarrassment at being singled out and praise managed to muster up some courage.

"Can I fetch you a drink m'lady? Mr Carson won't mind me taking it out the cupboard if it's for you."

Gwen was already half out of her seat, and Cora smiled.

"Thank you Gwen, that's very thoughtful of you. In fact," she added as an afterthought, "why don't you fetch a few bottles, and we can make it a party? Goodness knows we'll need all the fun we can get soon."

She caught Gwen's look of trepidation and eased it with another smile. "You can tell Mr Carson that I removed the bottles myself, and I'll handle Lord Grantham."

That seemingly did the trick and the girl returned only moments later with a grand total of two bottles, which would be plenty for now, Sarah thought in amusement. Cora was doing marvellously so far but she wasn't sure even her lady, as lovely and ingratiating as she would, would deign to great drunk with them _just _yet. Gwen poured out a glass for her ladyship first, and the next for Sarah, and she smirked and tried not to look at Mrs Hughes.

"Gwen...are you forgetting something?"

Gwen's eyes went wide.

"Oh, I'm sorry Mrs Hughes."

"Nevermind, here have this one." She slid the glass in the housekeeper's direction without trying to look _too _pleased with herself. "No 'arm done. The walls are still standing."

Mrs Hughes looked like she disagreed entirely, but even she seemed a little stunned by the Countess' actions. Under any other circumstances Sarah might get a telling off for being so outspoken, but never in Cora's presence. And surely the housekeeper could see how much Cora needed this? Elsie Hughes had been here longer than _she _had and if anybody could read her ladyship's moods – though none could do it better than she could – the older woman surely could.

"Gwen, why don't you pour yourself a glass?" Cora continued. "I'll finish pouring the rest."

She smiled, leaning over the table and even _Sarah_found it hard to believe the Countess of Grantham was about to serve them all drinks, but before she could begin she was interrupted by Carson's sudden entrance.

"Your ladyship."

"Yes Carson?"

Carson glanced briefly to the wine and, to his credit, hardly blinked. "His lordship is looking for you, my lady."

Robert? Looking for her, now. "He is?" Cora questioned, as casually as she could manage, despite the furious pounding of her hopeful heart.

Sarah felt her heart sink at Carson's words and cursed the man, a little unfairly, for always being the harbinger of doom. She couldn't look at her ladyship; the hope in Cora's voice made her feel terrible. Why would she begrudge this woman loving her husband? What right had she, a lady's maid, to be disappointed? Oh well, she thought dismally as she aggressively drank her wine, it had been nice while it lasted.

"Yes, your ladyship. He asked me to inform you that he is retiring for the night."

If Robert had come downstairs himself and struck her across the face, Cora would still have not looked as devastated as she did as Carson's words washed over her.

"I see," she responded flatly. She sucked in a little breath, grappling for her momentarily abandoned pride. She would not let the servants see her like this. "Please tell his lordship thank you and goodnight, Carson. Thank you."

Sarah bit her lip. She had found Cora's hope devastating but it was nothing, _nothing _compared to how the other woman was reacting to the news of her husband's dismissal. This was worse than what Cora had done to her in many ways. There was no prior understanding of love, no long and happy marriage, just an overwhelming passion. It had hurt to be rejected but this...she really could swing for that bloody man sometimes, the way he made his wife feel.

Unsure of whether it would be welcome, and making sure to keep it from the staff, Sarah reached her hand towards her ladyship's lap and wrapped her fingers around Cora's.

Despite everything, despite her own surety that _had _his lordship been offering an olive branch Cora would have dismissed her without much thought and despite the lust that was still coursing through her body, all she wanted was to hold the other woman and make her feel better. It scared her a little, this need to comfort Lady Grantham but she knew that she wanted to.

She spoke tentatively.

"Would you like to go to bed too m'lady?" She squeezed her hand, telling her she would not be alone. She meant it innocently and hoped it would be taken as such.

At first, Cora barely heard Sarah speak. Instead, she imagined her husband's face, over and over, as he calmly turned to Carson and coldly announced his intentions. She released a quiet shuddering breath, scarcely caring if the servant's saw her pain, hardly even aware of their presence. They'd faded into the background, their tentative chatter almost inaudible hum shrouded in the fog that had descended.

She had been so happy, only moments ago. How could Robert do this, after twenty-four years of marriage? After three beautiful children and one terrible miscarriage? How could he be so cold?

Sarah's words finally registered, and Cora looked to the other woman. God, how hard this must be for her, after everything that they had shared in the last twenty four hours. Cora could not be certain that Sarah loved her, but at the very least she _cared _for her. And Cora had been ready to dismiss her at the drop of a hat!

"Yes," she managed. "I think it's best that I call it a night."

Sarah let go of Cora's hand and left her seat, heading out before Cora. She caught Carson's shocked face at her actions but found she didn't care at the moment - the both of them needed to be as far away from others as possible at the moment. For a moment she utterly _hated_Lord Grantham, both for hurting this woman again but also for being arrogant enough to forsake her: for god's sake, did the man not know how much his wife loved him?

When they were halfway up the stairs Sarah gathered her courage and stopped, turning back to meet Cora's eye. She placed her hands on Cora's shoulders, feeling the need to simply _touch _the other woman overtake her, even if it wasn't quite as lustful as they had been not an hour ago.

"M'lady, forgive me for saying this but...if you'd prefer not to stay in your room tonight..."

_What _Sarah, what are you going to offer her? Come and stay in my room after your husband has just stamped all over your broken heart? Cora probably couldn't stand the thought of being touched at the moment – Sarah had felt the brief stab of possibility when Cora's hadn't shaken off her hands but really this was such a simple touch wasn't it?

She knew she was not the one Cora wanted but she was damn well going to make herself useful and help her in her hour of need. In the back of her mind, that terrible little part of her brain that was half-Thomas, a part that had been silenced since their activities that afternoon, screamed at her. This was not the kind of thing that she did! She talked down to the others and tried to get out of as much work as possible - she didn't go out of her way to become indispensable to the Countess of Grantham because it hurt her heart to see the other woman sad. What on earth was wrong with her?

She squeezed Cora's shoulders gently.

"Anything at all that you want or need m'lady, you've only to ask."

Cora stopped in the hallway, halted by Sarah's hands against her shoulders. The touched seared through the material of her sleeves - not for lust, though the feeling of desire for the other woman had not entirely disappeared, but because of the sheer tenderness of the touch. Looking up to meet Sarah's eyes, Cora was rendered temporarily speechless by the look of utter devotion on the other woman's face.

What _did _she want? It was getting increasingly difficult to answer such a question lately. Honestly, more than anything, she wanted - needed - Robert's love. She needed him to stay and wrap his strong arms around her and never let go. But when did anybody really get what they want?

"Can I stay with you tonight?" Cora breathed, meeting Sarah's searing gaze. Cora might want Robert so badly she could scarcely breathe, but it didn't mean that she didn't want Sarah too.

Sarah felt her heart swell until it seemed as though it would burst out of her chest. She supposed she had her answer, the reason for her sickening devotion: she loved this woman and knew she was doomed to do so forever, but she truly didn't mind as long as she was allowed to touch her, be close to her, have her, and make love to her thoroughly. She doubted the last was on the cards for tonight given how her ladyship probably felt, but she would be here in any other capacity the Countess needed.

"Of course m'lady." She smiled at the other woman and squeezing her shoulders once more. "It'll be a pleasure."

She reached down and took the other woman's hand, letting her know she would not be alone before turning and taking the servant's staircase upstairs towards her own room. She had wanted their journey up here to be filled with a lot more frivolity and touching and kissing and being misbehaved in ways that would make Mrs Hughes blush, but instead she was holding Cora's hand tightly and there was no touching. For all that she still burned for the other woman she was not going to take advantage of Cora in her hour of need, and it struck her that this was what she should have done last night...being understanding and ignored her own lust. Just held this wondrous, beautiful woman until she felt safe again.

"Sarah," Cora began, before abruptly breaking off. She stopped them as Sarah had, in the middle of the hallway. She looked to their hands, feeling Sarah's rough, calloused flesh underneath hers. God, she must look a state. Falling apart at the seams because Robert was so damn stubborn and stupid to push his wife away when they needed each other the most. Not just because of the baby, although that loss alone should have been enough reason for Robert to want his wife close. But because he was going to war, and if she lost him, after all of this...

She sucked in a little breath as she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing away any thoughts of _that _happening. She couldn't bear it if it did, couldn't even begin to imagine how she would go on living, even with her three beautiful girls that she was terribly proud of and the unwavering tenderness of the woman currently holding her hand. She knew that to be terribly selfish, but she loved the man so much that it hurt, so that every single part of her screamed out in agony at the rejection.

Yet, despite all of that, despite the knowledge that Cora would have abandoned Sarah with barely any hesitation to make love to her husband and be by his side, she was still here. She was still holding her hand, treating her with unimaginable tenderness, welcoming her still into her heart and into her bed.

Raising one trembling hand she pressed it to Sarah's cheek and gave her a pained and tremulous smile.

"Will you call me Cora?" she whispered.

Sarah almost laughed. She didn't think Cora would appreciate it too much given their situation so she suppressed the urge but couldn't prevent her lips from forming into a small smile. She mirrored the Countess' action, placing a hand to her cheek of brushing her fingers over the deliciously soft skin where neck met ear.

She thought she must be a fool to show such devotion. Cora had damn near run away from her and she was still here offering her heart to be crushed, and she had a sinking feeling that she always would. This war would not end overnight but she planned to see it through to the end with this woman and she understood, quite suddenly, that Cora wanted her just as much as she needed her. Sarah wasn't fighting against expectations and the family, Cora didn't want her despite her feelings, but rather because of them.

She leaned in and gently kissed the other woman, quite chastely on the lips.

"I can do many things for you m'lady but that one might be difficult." Mischief danced in her eyes. "I'll try though."

Cora smiled. "That's all that I ask."

Rubbing her thumb tenderly over the corner of Sarah's lips, she kissed her - soft and brief, but full of emotion.

"I'm not going to run away, Sarah," she whispered, holding her soft gaze. "Not like last night, I couldn't do that to _either _of us now. You've become incredibly important to me, Sarah O'Brien."

Sarah nodded along with Cora's words. She had suspected this but it touched her immeasurably that Cora felt the need to tell her. She smiled at the last.

"You've always been important to me."

She leaned towards her and kissed the other woman, deeper this time, wanting to somehow infuse all the passion and affection she felt. She was allowed a part of Cora, possibly even a part that his lordship wasn't privy too. It was enough and she would make the best of any time she got with Cora. And if nothing else she would still get to touch her everyday during their dressing and undressing sessions. She smirked at that: really Cora couldn't have chosen herself a more practical lover.

"Come on," she kissed gently across the other woman's cheek before she reached her ear and whispered. "We should get you to bed, Cora."

Cora, as always, was happy to resign herself to her maid's infinitely better judgment.


End file.
